


Camelot's Sweethearts

by mariana_oconnor



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur and Morgana Are Not Related, Arthur's a bit of a dick, Awesome Morgana, Awesome Will, But he's not actually going to, Community: reel_merlin, Did I mention that Arthur's a bit of a dick?, F/M, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Merlin is Arthur's PA, Merlin's Teenage Crush, Movie Star!Arthur, Oblivious Arthur, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pining Merlin, Romantic Comedy, Suicide mention, Uther Pendragon's A+ parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-15
Updated: 2009-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana_oconnor/pseuds/mariana_oconnor
Summary: Arthur is a film star, Merlin is his personal assistant who might, possibly be head over heels in love with him. However, Arthur’s more interested in his ex, Morgana, and then the mysterious Sophia, to notice… Oh, and Will is awesome.





	Camelot's Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Reel_Merlin back in 2009. This is super loosely based on the film _America's Sweethearts_. Transferred over as part of my get everything on AO3 initiative.
> 
> Original notes:  
> This is the little fic that ran away with my inner editor and killed them, brutally. Many, many, thanks to [wrennette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette)who did a spectacular job of betaing every part of it and checking for continuity errors and everything and [binglejells](https://binglejells.livejournal.com/) who gave another part a thorough looking over during my ‘aargh deadline!’ panic. Any mistakes left are my own.  
> Also – I know nothing about the film industry.  
> Third I do not own any of the things mentioned in this fic. Nor do the opinions of the characters on anything from religion to John Barrowman necessarily reflect my own.  
> Thank god it’s over.

Everyone knows that the lives of film stars are glamorous. The glitz, the parties, the endless stream of people trying to worm their way into your affections. True, the life has its down sides; the paparazzi, the insane fans… but everyone knows the pluses outnumber the minuses and everyone envies the riches and the fame.  
  
The lives of film stars’ personal assistants – or slaves as they are affectionately known – are not quite so glamorous. Every film star, to quote a cliché, is like a swan: it glides beautifully on top of the water, but hidden away, the legs are kicking frantically. There’s just one thing that no one ever mentions:  
  
Those legs never belong to the film star.  
  
The legs that we are interested in belong to one Merlin Emrys. Son of Hunith Emrys, born in a small village in the Peak District called Ealdor, not that anyone really cared what his name was. All they cared about was the man he worked for: Arthur Pendragon.  
  
Yes,  _that_  Arthur Pendragon. Yes, star of  _Valiant_  and also that curious little indie film whose name no one ever remembers. Golden boy of Hollywood. Most famous British actor in years. On the cover of every magazine you  _could_  be on the cover of.  _That_  Arthur Pendragon, who couldn’t get dressed in the morning without his personal assistant selecting his outfit and making sure his breakfast was cooked  _exactly_  right.  
  
Merlin was best known for being ‘that guy with the sticky-out ears who lurks in the back of photos’, if he even got that much recognition. He too had graced the cover of many trashy tabloids (most of which pictures were stuck on his mother’s wall, to his mortification) but no one really seemed to care about that. In fact, all people ever asked him about was Arthur.  
  
“Can I have Arthur’s autograph?”  
  
“Is Arthur going to go for the role in his father’s new film?”  
  
“Will Arthur be ready by five?”  
  
To which the answers were, in order: no, yes and highly unlikely, given that some idiot had decided to let Arthur do his own hair, which always took him forever.  
  
And if he wasn’t answering questions  _about_  Arthur, he was answering questions  _from_  Arthur, which was a challenge in and of itself.   
  
Screaming teenage girls and weak-kneed middle aged women lined the streets at any event Arthur was going to. He was charming, smiled in a way that made any sane person’s heart (gay, straight, bi, asexual) skip a beat and never swerved from his ‘golden boy’ image. None of the public knew that, behind the scenes, he was the most demanding, pig-headed, arrogant, bloody-minded son of a bitch who had ever walked the earth. Most of the time.  
  
Those people who  _did_  know offered Merlin as much pity as he could handle, mixed with a certain amount of awe. He knew that he was the first PA (whipping boy) of Arthur’s to last more than a year, and he also knew that every one before him (without fail) had ended up in some sort of therapy afterwards. But considering most of them had been the type of Hollywood wannabe that clung desperately to Arthur’s coat tails to try and make it on their own, he was not entirely surprised.  
  
Merlin, on the other hand, had just wanted a job with reasonable compensation for his time, a roof over his head and the possibility of travel, someday, perhaps. The ‘on call’ 27 hours a day, eight days a week part was an undesirable side effect.  
  
He had been meant to work as a cleaner in the studio where Arthur was filming his latest epic,  _The Labyrinth of Gedref_ , but he had stumbled into the wrong room by accident and narrowly avoided a low flying glass of water.  
  
It turned out that the room he stumbled into was Arthur’s dressing room and the glass of water had been meant for Gregory, his predecessor, but Merlin had not found that out until later. He had berated the man sitting across from him without even looking up, and proceeded to clean up around the broken glass, telling Arthur (and in his defence, he had not known it was Arthur at that point, not that he would have done anything differently if he had known) that if he was going to throw glasses deliberately then he was going to clean up his own mess.  
  
The ensuing argument had lasted a good half an hour, during which time Gaius, the publicist for the studio, had come in and watched in amusement.  
  
Ten minutes later Merlin had been promoted without having any say in the matter and his life had taken a turn for the decidedly bizarre. If he’d known arguing would get him a job, he would have tried it in his first hundred or so interviews.  
  
He had currently been working for Arthur for three years, although it seemed like more, and he really could not imagine being anywhere else. Arthur was a self-centred arsehole, but…  
  
– and it was a really big but –  
  
Merlin was sort of, kind of, slightly, maybe a little, head over heels in love with him, which sort of, kind of, sucked.  
  
But that was the way it went. Arthur was annoyingly handsome and had the most irritating habit of being fundamentally a good person beneath all of the self-obsessed bullshit, and Merlin was his harassed PA. Fairytale endings only happened in the rom-coms. Not a genre Merlin had ever had an affinity with.  
  
All of which sort of explained what Merlin was doing walking down a corridor towards Arthur’s current dressing room at seven am on his birthday when he had had many  _far_  better offers (okay  _one_  far better offer, involving his friend Will and a pack of beer). There was a cup of coffee in each of his hands, a handful of letters tucked under one of his arms and a brown paper bag containing a croissant hanging from between his teeth.  
  
“Merlin!” There was a familiar voice behind him and he turned, paying very careful attention to the coffees he was carrying. He groaned, Gaius was walking towards him down the corridor and the expression on the older man’s face indicated that this was going to be a bad birthday. From that first instance where Gaius had seamlessly convinced him to take the job, he always got that look on his face when he was about to talk to Merlin about something truly terrible.  
  
“Mmph,” Merlin mumbled around the brown paper in greeting. Gaius nodded absently and waved a newspaper front page in front of his eyes, too fast and too close for him to read it. That was also a bad sign. Nothing ever flustered Gaius; there was never a grey hair out of place in his, admittedly slightly disturbing, hairstyle (Merlin had tried telling him once that he should get a haircut, but had only received the Gaius-eyebrow-raising-of-doom for his troubles). If the contents of this paper were enough to get the publicist agitated, then it would be enough to put Arthur into one of his sulky moods.  
  
Merlin  _hated_  Arthur’s sulky moods. They usually ended up with everyone yelling at him because no one dared to yell at the superstar.   
  
“Have you seen this?” Gaius demanded dropping the paper to his side to glare at Merlin as though the headline, whatever it was, was his fault.  
  
“Nhn,” Merlin replied with a shake of his head. The brown paper bag was beginning to get a little damp with saliva, despite his best efforts, and he knew Arthur was going to complain.  
  
“It’s not good, Merlin,” Gaius intoned, and his heart dropped. ‘not good’ usually meant catastrophically bad. “Read it.” He held the paper out for Merlin to take and the only response the younger man could give was an unimpressed look, and it took Gaius a second to realise that his hands were a little too busy, and he held it up for Merlin to see.  
  
_Lovebirds Back Together?_ The headline read and, before Merlin even looked at the picture he knew that this was every bit as bad as Gaius had implied. The black and white photograph depicted a man who was definitely Arthur sitting in the back of a car, and a woman, who could be no one other than Morgana Le Fay, his ex-girlfriend and fellow superstar, getting in next to him. Internally, Merlin let out a string of expletives, externally, he tried to look as innocent as possible.  
  
He should have known this would come back to bite him in the arse. Avoiding Gaius’ gaze, he read on.  
  
_The break up two years ago of heart-throb Arthur Pendragon, star of_ The Moment of Truth  _and_  Valiant,  _and Morgana Lefay_ , Valiant  _and_  To Kill the King,  _had fans around the country_ … he skipped that bit, he knew that bit. Not only had he been there for the whole of that ill-advised romance, he had also read all the coverage of it, and its aftermath, in the papers, and seen it on TV, and the Internet. … _Yesterday, our reporter caught this image of the two of them leaving from a star-studded party together! Is love in the air once more for this high-profile couple? Have they seen past their differences? Sources close to Morgana suggest that the answer may be yes. We can only hope that these two have worked things out and look forward to an announcement shortly._  
  
Merlin groaned, and almost dropped the post under his arm.  
  
“Do you have any idea where this came from, Merlin?” Gaius asked lightly, and Merlin could tell someone else had already landed him in it. He winced slightly and Gaius reached out to pull the bag from his mouth. “Well?”  
  
“I swear, I didn’t know the photographer was there,” he said immediately. Gaius took a deep breath. “It wasn’t anything, okay. Gwen was ill and she asked me to keep an eye on Morgana as well, they both got bored of the party at about the same time, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and stick them in the same car.”  
  
“What were you  _thinking_?” Gaius asked, “ _were_  you thinking? Or did you just take leave of your senses completely?”  
  
“I didn’t notice the camera man…” Merlin repeated, stubbornly. He glared at the picture as though he could cause it to cease to exist if he just stared at it long enough. But no matter how long he stared at it, it was still there, in black and white for the whole world to see: Morgana ducking into Arthur’s car. “And I went with them, it’s not like they were alone.”  
  
“The world doesn’t care, Merlin.” Gaius said solemnly. “You remember what it was like the last time they got together.”  
  
Merlin did. It had been barely six months into his job with Arthur when the actor had decided that he was head over heels in love with his co-star, the beautiful Morgana Lefay. The two of them had barely managed to hold one civilised conversation with each other in the whole time they had known each other, but Arthur was convinced that it was true love. Merlin had, wearily, worked as a go-between for his boss with Morgana’s assistant Gwen, and slowly the two of them had decided to see how things went.  
  
Unluckily, they were caught in a restaurant together by a reporter halfway through their second official date. After that it had been less of a relationship and more of a media circus. Admittedly, it had raised the profile of the film they were working on. Individually they were famous, but together they were the ‘perfect’ couple. For months they were everywhere, TV shows, front pages, entire web pages and livejournal communities were devoted to their relationship.  
  
Arthur had been too much enamoured of the situation to realise the strain it was putting on his relationship, and too convinced of his own superiority to notice Morgana’s waning interest. When the end had finally come, after many screaming rows and smashed vases and mirrors, the only people surprised were Arthur and the public. Somehow, they had managed to keep their issues behind doors.   
  
The entire western world had mourned the end of their relationship.   
  
Arthur had stomped around for a few weeks, glaring and refusing roles in anything other than introspective thrillers, before getting uproariously drunk with his father’s newest secretary and sleeping with her… and her sister.   
  
She had sold her story to the newspapers and soon everywhere was full of  _Arthur seeks solace for his broken heart_. The resulting backlash had sent Morgana to her lawyers for restraining orders on every member of the paparazzi she could name and Arthur into therapy.  
  
Merlin could not do that again. Somehow, people seemed to think that the title of PA meant that he was the only one who could deal with Arthur’s moods, or maybe it just singled him out as some kind of sacrificial lamb. Either way it ended up with him and Arthur alone in a room as the actor attempted to take out some of his agitation – usually on Merlin.  
  
“Shit.” Merlin said.  
  
“I quite agree,” Gaius said, but before he could expand, a shout shook the corridor.  
  
“ _MERLIN!_ ” Arthur’s voice could carry across an entire football pitch if necessary (and it had been once, in the classic romantic ending scene of  _The Moment of Truth_ ). The relatively small distance from his dressing room to Merlin’s ears was barely an obstacle.  
  
“I should…” he said and Gaius nodded, giving him a sympathetic smile before offering the paper bag back to him. He took it gingerly between his teeth.  
  
“ _MERLIN, Where are you?_ ” Arthur called again and Merlin turned as quickly as he could and hurried towards Arthur’s room.   
  
“Happy Birthday,” Gaius called after him. If Merlin had had enough hands to stick two fingers up at him, he would have.   
  
He was just wondering how to open the door with no hands when it was flung open from the inside and he looked up into Arthur’s eyes.  
  
It was no wonder that the man was famous. He was gorgeous from the tips of his blond hair to his toes, not that Merlin was biased or anything. Arthur even looked good when he was furious, and that was just not fair. It was so hard to be angry when you were ogling the way the muscles in his neck bunched together, or his arse as he paced the room, and his eyes.  
  
Merlin shook his head to get rid of the unwanted thoughts as quickly as he could. He would have thought that, after 3 years of knowing Arthur for the spoilt brat that he was, the crush would have worn off. After all, he wasn’t a wide-eyed teenager staring at the posters lining the walls of his room and realising that maybe he might just be a  _little_  bit gay, anymore. Sadly, his heart still skipped a beat every time Arthur smiled  _the_  smile, the one he had first seen twenty times larger than life at the cinema, the one that had made the actor famous. It was pathetic, really. Every time he smiled like that Merlin felt as though it was just for him, and he understood all the screaming fans that followed Arthur around the world, begging him to notice them.  
  
The problem was not that Arthur did not notice him, it was just that he noticed him in the wrong way.  
  
“Apparently,” Arthur drawled, his tone suddenly deathly calm (and that was when Merlin knew to worry) “Morgana and I are back together.  _Wherever_  could the press have got that idea, Merlin?”  
  
With the croissant bag still clenched between his teeth, there was little Merlin could do but look sheepish. Somehow, having both his arms full and a paper bag in his mouth helped with that.  
  
“I  _knew_  that getting in that car together was a bad idea,” Arthur said, although, Merlin seemed to remember that the man had not mentioned that at the time. “How could you let this happen?” Merlin very nearly spat the croissant bag out of his mouth at that. If he could just get in the door and put the stuff down on the table by the door, then they could have this argument properly. But Arthur was blocking the entire doorway. “Don’t give me that look, Merlin,” the film star continued, pouting slightly (another expression that really should  _not_  have been attractive, but  _really_  was).  
  
Finally, after a few moments of just glaring at each other, Arthur submitted and stepped aside to let Merlin in. Within seconds he had dumped the stuff down on the table and turned on his boss.  
  
“If you’d known it was a bad idea, you could have clued me in,” he said, watching as Arthur closed the door and crossed his arms over his chest.   
  
“You’re my personal assistant, Merlin, you’re supposed to know these things without my having to tell you. Surely by  _now_  you’ve figured that out. Honestly you’re the…”  
  
“-worst assistant you’ve ever had,” Merlin completed for him without missing a beat. “And anyway, it’s not like they’ve got anything definite, and how was I supposed to know there was some guy with a camera out there?”  
  
“There’s  _always_  a guy with a camera out there,” Arthur told him with a tired sigh, “and they don’t  _need_  anything definite. They’ll run with it anyway. It’s like a game of Chinese whispers with them. What starts out as one thing ends up as the end of the world, or some sort of sadistic BDSM orgy.” He sighed and collapsed into the most comfortable chair in the room with effortless elegance.  
  
“Well, I don’t remember the orgy, or wasn’t I invited?” Merlin asked, trying to break the tension in the room. Arthur looked at him in utter confusion for a moment before allowing a small smile to creep onto his face.  
  
“Why would we invite  _you_  to our BDSM orgies, Merlin. Honestly… there are  _far_  more interesting people out there,” he waved his hand vaguely to indicate the world. Merlin sighed internally in relief. Arthur was not as mad as he could have been, if he was allowing himself to be distracted by Merlin’s poor humour this early on.  
  
“I could bring the whips,” he said, turning to sort out the piles of paper on the desk, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing slightly at the idea of orgies with Arthur.   
  
“You have whips?” Arthur asked, sounding a little taken aback. “I wouldn’t have thought you were into that sort of thing. You seem a little…”  
  
“What?” Merlin asked, turning round and raising an eyebrow. He had been practising that look, and studying Gaius’ face for hours in an attempt to perfect it.   
  
“Well,” Arthur’s eyes shifted a little uncomfortably, focussing on the wall behind Merlin’s head rather than his face. “Vanilla, I suppose. You always seem a little, prudish, that’s all.”  
  
“Just because I don’t talk about my sex life doesn’t mean I don’t have one,” Merlin pointed out, “not all of us like to have people walk in on them.” Arthur at least had the grace to look abashed at the reminder. Merlin had walked in on him and Morgana several times in the beginning of their relationship, before he had learnt to knock loud enough to be heard by the dead. Then there were Arthur’s other various one-night stands over the years, whom he had had to let down gently, force to sign privacy agreements and escort to the door after cooking them breakfast.  
  
“Yeah, but I’ve never even seen you  _look_  at a girl,” Arthur pointed out.  
  
“I’m discrete.” Merlin commented. So discrete that Arthur had not, apparently, realised that he was gay. It was almost a relief, except that it reinforced the fact Arthur had only ever noticed him as the person who brought the coffee and told him he was being a prat.  
  
“Is it the ears?” Arthur asked, curiously.  
  
“Is what the ears?” Merlin asked, although he had an idea where this was going.  
  
“Why you can’t get a girl, is it the ears?” Arthur squinted at him and twisted his head to one side. “You’re not  _that_ bad looking really… but the ears are a little dumbo-like.”  
  
“Why, thank you,” Merlin commented handing over the handful of letters that looked like they might be more personal to Arthur. “I think there might almost have been a compliment hidden in there.” Arthur just smirked, before tearing into the first envelope. Merlin took the opportunity to grab a sip of his own coffee – it was cold.  
  
“My father requests my presence at a meeting over the  _Excalibur_  casting tomorrow,” Arthur said with a sigh, tossing the letter onto the floor and opening the next. “Like I wouldn’t be there anyway.” Arthur liked to be at every meeting for those films of his father’s he was involved in. He said he liked to see the progression.  
  
“My great-aunt wants a signed picture for a relative’s birthday,” he continued with his usual round up of the day’s post. “And… oh, Gawain’s having a New Year’s party which I  _must_  attend.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All that stuff with Morgana,” he said slowly, and Merlin, perched on the edge of the table, gritted his teeth in preparation. “Do you think it will all go away?”  
  
“Probably,” Merlin answered optimistically, “if there’s nothing else to egg them on then they don’t have any real proof, except for that so called source.”  
  
“Source?” Arthur asked, his head whipping up to catch Merlin’s eye again. “What source?”  
  
“Just something mentioned in the article. Probably complete bollocks,” Merlin backtracked. The tiny alarm in his head that he had trained to warn him when he was heading into dangerous territory with Arthur was ringing loudly.  
  
“What source, Merlin?” Arthur demanded again, his voice going flat and his blue eyes boring into Merlin’s.  
  
“Just… the article, it says that a source close to Morgana said that it was true or something like that.” As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them. Arthur’s eyes lit up like he had not seen them do in months, maybe even years. He knew that look, it was the one Arthur had had before he became infatuated with Morgana. He groaned inwardly and wished that he could take it back.  
  
“A source?” Arthur asked again, this time eagerly. “Close to Morgana? Who?”  
  
“It’s almost certainly total bollocks, Arthur,” Merlin said, desperately trying to regain control of the situation, but knowing it was futile. Arthur reached out and grabbed the offending paper from the floor and scanned through the article again until he found the relevant passage.   
  
“ ‘Sources close to Morgana suggest that the answer may be yes’,” Arthur read out. “What do you think that means?” he asked. Merlin knew that it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway.   
  
“Absolutely bugger-all, except that it was a slow news day and they wanted to sound official.”  
  
“But they can’t print it unless it’s based on some sort of truth,” Arthur told him, although both of them knew that was complete rubbish.  
  
“Maybe they spoke to her postman or something… or the man who sold her a car. Who knows?” Merlin reached out to try and pull the article away from Arthur, but the actor pulled it swiftly out of reach.  
  
“Sources close to Morgana…” he muttered to himself. “It’s got to mean that she wanted them to write it.” Merlin thought the holes in Arthur’s logic would probably be big enough for fully grown dolphins to jump through, and maybe a blue whale or two (if they jumped) but he did not say anything. The man was off on his own now, in a fantasy world of his own making and there was no calling him back. “She wants to get back together.”   
  
In the stretch of terrible silence that followed, Merlin decided that this was going to be an awful birthday. Drawing in a deep breath, he resigned himself to the fact. Gaius was going to kill him, and get the effects guys to burn his body so that no one would ever find him. No, he would probably just hand him over to the effects guys first and let them kill him – slowly.   
  
He had sort of hoped that he would live a little longer than twenty two.  
  
“Of course she wants to get back together,” Arthur said to himself, his face falling into the smug, self-satisfied expression that was probably the only expression of his that  _didn’t_  make Merlin go weak at the knees. Rather, it made his personal assistant want to smack him,  _hard_. “It’s only natural.”  
  
That had been the problem with Arthur and Morgana’s relationship, Merlin mused, knowing that he wasn’t going to be necessary to the conversation for a little while. Arthur had always thought that Morgana should be  _grateful_ for his attention, not realising that she only tolerated him because at the few times when he wasn’t being an arrogant berk, he was actually quite a nice human being.   
  
“And she couldn’t say it herself because… well, she’s Morgana.” Merlin at least agreed with that part. If Morgana, on any level, wanted to get back together with Arthur, she would never say so. However, the possibility of her wanting that was so infinitesimally small – Merlin happened to know through his friendship with Gwen, Morgana’s PA, that she was currently in a relationship with an Italian model – that the point was pretty much moot. “Do you think she wants to get back with me?” Arthur asked finally. Merlin paused a second. He had learnt a long time ago that unless you were completely to the point, Arthur would hear what he wanted to hear.   
  
“No,” he said firmly. Of course, being blunt had its own problems, namely that Arthur tended to react badly when he did  _not_  hear what he wanted. There was a dangerous look in his boss’s eye for a second, but then it passed and Arthur was laughing.  
  
“Why am I even asking you anyway?” he asked the room at large, “we already established that you have no sex life.” Merlin restrained himself from pointing out that all they had really established was that his sex life was private, although if Arthur wanted more proof than that Merlin was quite willing to give him a private demonstration.  
  
He gripped onto the edge of the table beneath him so hard that his knuckles turned white. Arthur did not notice.   
  
“You’re still friends with that assistant of hers, aren’t you?” Arthur asked idly, drumming his fingers against the chair arm. “Gwen, is it?”  
  
“Ye-es,” Merlin said reluctantly. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and it was nowhere he particularly wanted to go, ever.  
  
“Perhaps you could find out – and do try to be subtle, Merlin – if I’m right.” Arthur gave him a scathing look that had won him a nomination for an Oscar a few years ago.  
  
“I’m always subtle,” Merlin argued, though he knew there was no point. He was never subtle with Gwen anyway, he knew she would want to talk about the situation anyway and Arthur’s insane theories were always good for a laugh.   
  
“You’re crap at subtle, Merlin,” Arthur told him, and Merlin decided that it was probably good thing that his innuendo often went over Arthur’s head, because it would no doubt be a bad idea to shake Arthur’s insistence that he was always right this late in life. He would doubtless have some kind of psychotic breakdown. Merlin was a lot better at subtle than Arthur ever was. There was nothing about the star that was subtle, from the way he moved to the way he dressed: always the best of everything, always the arrogant, yet annoyingly attractive, swagger. It was more than a little rich to hear  _him_ , Mr ‘Everyone-knows-everything-about-me’ laugh at  _Merlin_ ’s subtlety.  
  
“Oh, and Merlin, can you fetch my coat from the back room?” Arthur asked casually, “I think I’ll need to get it dry cleaned before Friday. There’s some stain all down the front of it…” he shrugged and Merlin sighed. He remembered where that stain had come from, not that Arthur probably could. He had been completely plastered by that time.  
  
“Fine,” he said with a weary sigh, crossing over to the back room. As usual, it was an utter mess. He would undoubtedly be expected to tidy it up before the end of the day. How Arthur managed to make such a mess in a couple of days was beyond him. He grabbed the offending jacket and examined it. The electric light was not kind to it, the greyish stain stood out even more strongly than it had on the weekend.  
  
He came out to find Arthur was sitting at his desk going through the more official letters with a frown creasing his forehead. However, Merlin could sense that his attention was not quite entirely on his task. He had grown used to noticing the smallest aspect of Arthur’s mood, and he had the feeling that Arthur was waiting for something. He looked around the room, and everything looked exactly as it had done before. He gave Arthur another long look, noticing that the actor’s shoulders had fallen almost imperceptibly, as though he was disappointed. Merlin gave the room another quick glance over and his gaze was caught by a splash of brilliant blue and red on the chair Arthur had previously been sitting on.  
  
He could not contain the grin that spread across his features. There was a small, messily wrapped gift on the seat of the chair. Arthur had obviously wrapped it himself, or attempted to. Merlin wondered for a second how long it had taken his boss to wage war against the cellotape and wrapping paper before he had come up with something that would not completely humiliate him.   
  
He knew that Arthur was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he crossed over to the chair and picked up the gift, turning it over in his hands. He allowed his own gaze to linger on the back of Arthur’s head for a moment, when he knew that the other young man could not see him. Then he put the jacket down on the chair and began to tear off the paper.  
  
“It’s not much,” Arthur muttered to a correspondence from the Women’s Institute asking him to present some awards for them in June. Merlin didn’t reply, just gaped at the box in front of him.  
  
It was a watch, a  _very_  expensive one, fully digital, with every possible add on that could be found.   
  
“Thank you,” he said quietly, opening the box to pull out the heavy metal strap. He took a second to fasten it round his wrist, reminding himself that Arthur had stupid amounts of money and therefore one tiny watch would barely register on his radar. However, the fact that it was exactly the right size, despite the fact that watches with set strap lengths were  _always_  too big for him, did not escape his notice. Seeing as it was his job to select and buy presents for all of Arthur’s relatives and close friends (he could even say, quite proudly, that he had become very good at buying presents for Uther Pendragon) the fact that Arthur had actually chosen it himself rather than scheduling it into Merlin’s time was what struck the dark haired man the most.  
  
“Well… it’s waterproof, and after what happened to the last one,” Arthur commented, still not turning round. He had always had a little trouble with the less abusive moments of their friendship.   
  
Merlin snorted a little under his breath. What had happened to the last one had been that Arthur had dropped something into a river on a location shoot and pushed Merlin in after it. His last watch, which had been with him since his sixteenth birthday, had not been able to withstand the water and by the time he had waded out, shivering and irate, it had shuffled off this mortal coil.  
  
“Thank you,” he repeated.  
  
“It’s better than the piece of crap you’ve been wearing, anyway,” Arthur continued, desperate to move the conversation out of the uncomfortable territory it had entered. “And now you have no excuse for being late.” Merlin just laughed and picked up the coat again before heading for the door. “Remember to ask Gwen, okay?”   
  
“Fine,” he agreed, not putting up a fight.  
  
“Cool… I’ll see you on the set this afternoon?” Arthur turned to him at last and Merlin nodded, still unable to wipe the grin from his face.  
  
***  
  
The smile was still plastered to his face when he met Gwen for lunch in the studio canteen that afternoon. Morgana was between films at the moment, so she had given Gwen the day off, and his friend had decided to buy Merlin a birthday lunch of soggy sandwiches and stale muffins.  
  
She saw him before he saw her, almost immediately he walked into the room and he turned immediately to the frantic yelling of his name.   
  
She was sitting to one side of the canteen, waving at him with a huge smile. There was a suspiciously large carrier bag by her feet and a couple of drinks were already on the table.  
  
“Over here!” she called superfluously, and Merlin headed in her direction, waving a greeting.  
  
“Hey Gwen,” he said as he came up to the table, giving her a loose hug.   
  
“Hey Merlin,” she replied, “Happy Birthday! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” They sat down and Merlin reached for his drink gratefully. The birthday present had been the highlight of his day. The dry cleaning facilities had been out of order when he had gone to find them, Gaius had been fielding questions about Arthur and Morgana’s relationship all morning and Merlin had been getting forwarded requests for television interviews from all of the bigger names. The only problem had been that all of them wanted a joint interview with Morgana, which he was not going to give the go ahead for at this point.  
  
“It’s just been a hectic morning, that’s all. Sorry I’m late,” he replied. “What with all this Morgana malarkey going on.” Gwen laughed softly.  
  
“I know. I got a phone call from her this morning asking whether I knew anyone who would have told them that she and Arthur were getting back together.”  
  
“So it’s not true, then?” Merlin asked, remembering Arthur’s admonishments to find out what Morgana felt about the whole situation. Gwen laughed out loud at that.  
  
“Of course it’s not true,” she looked at Merlin in disbelief. “You know as well as I do that there’s no hope of those two  _ever_  getting back together. Why did you even ask?”  
  
“Arthur… is,” Merlin sighed, “he’s a little too interested in the story,” he said.  
  
“You think that  _he_  wants to get back together?” Gwen asked leaning forward over the table.  
  
“You know Arthur.”  
  
“Not as well as you do,” she replied with a sly smile. “That’s a nice watch, by the way. When did you get a pay raise?” He blushed a little under her scrutiny.  
  
“I didn’t – it was a birthday present,” he said, and allowed her to tug his arm across the table for a closer examination.  
  
“You mean he  _remembered_  this year?” she asked with exaggerated incredulity.  
  
“Well… last year, it was in the middle of all that therapy, and the year before that he and Morgana had just broken up, and the year that we had only just met… so it’s not like it’s that big a deal,” he shrugged as she looked up at him curiously.  
  
“Of course it’s not… although I feel a little out done now,” she said, releasing his arm and reaching down to pick up the carrier bag at her feet. “If I’d known Arthur was going to remember I would have got you something better… not that I deliberately got you something bad.” She rolled her eyes at her own ability to put two feet in her mouth and pushed the bag over the table, narrowly avoiding their drinks.   
  
“I didn’t have time to wrap it, I’m sorry. It was just…” Merlin cut her off with a look and she sighed as he drew out a box and gaped at it. “I know… it’s stupid, right? I’ll take it back.” She reached across for it, but Merlin pulled it out of her grasp.  
  
“No you don’t!” he told her firmly, still staring at the present. “You got me… an Arthur Pendragon  _action figure_?”  
  
“Well, I remembered you said you used to collect his merchandise before, you know, you actually met him, and I thought that you might like to push him around for once, rather than, well, the other way round… Or you could stick pins in him… not that I think you’re the kind of person who would do that, I just know that sometimes when Morgana’s being difficult I want to… well, take out my frustration on her and…”  
  
“It’s brilliant,” Merlin said, grinning at her again. “It’s perfect. I shall take great pleasure in throwing him off imaginary cliffs.” They shared a small laugh. “Is he anatomically correct, do you know?” he asked curiously. She blushed furiously, causing him to laugh again. “I’ll take that as ‘you never thought to look’.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” she said in a hushed voice, looking a little scandalised. He always enjoyed teasing her about things like that. He had no idea how she had managed to get through years of working in the film business and still be so innocent about things like that, but it was fun to needle her. “I didn’t buy it for you to take out your twisted fantasies on it.” Or maybe she wasn’t so innocent. He laughed, but now it was his turn to blush and he could feel the tips of his ears burning.  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insisted. “I prefer my sex toys to be more… well, real sex toys for a start.” She nodded. “Now, if we have established that I am not going to use the poor toy for nefarious purposes, other than perhaps the occasional beheading… does his head come off?” Gwen nodded. “Then maybe lunch?”  
  
She took his order and headed over to the counter, leaving Merlin still staring at the doll in his lap in amusement. The original artist had apparently been quite good, because it was not one of those dolls where you couldn’t tell who it was supposed to be unless you saw it in the box. It really did look like a miniature version of Arthur smiling out at him.   
  
It was based on an image of him from the fantasy film  _Valiant_  in which he had made his debut, still one of his most famous roles as the young Prince who had to battle evil snakes to inherit his birthright, a film Merlin may have watched a few more than five times at the cinema. The doll was in the full garb of Arthur’s costume, even down to a miniature sword hanging by his side.  
  
“Here we are,” Gwen said, placing a plate of odd looking sandwiches in front of him. “Happy Birthday.”  
  
“Thanks,” he said, relaxing as he began to dig in.  
  
Of course, the relaxation did not last for long. Less than five minutes later his phone was ringing urgently. He pulled it out of his pocket with a grimace at Gwen.  
  
“Arthur?” he answered, and within milliseconds his employer was listing into his ear all the things that had to be done before that evening. He sighed. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” Gwen gave him a sympathetic look before stealing the rest of his sandwich and shrugging. She knew the drill: they called, you went; or you got fired and never worked in the industry again – or anywhere else.   
  
Arthur was still rabbiting on as Merlin gave Gwen a one armed hug goodbye and grabbed his new present before walking swiftly from the room.   
  
“I’m on my way, Arthur. I’ll be right there.”  
  
***  
  
Arthur did not listen when Merlin told him what Gwen had said, but when did Arthur ever listen to him? The next thing Merlin knew he could hear Arthur’s yelling from the other end of the corridor and walked in to find Arthur on the phone to Morgana, his face red with anger.  
  
“What do you  _mean_ , I’m arrogant?” he demanded down the phone line, and Merlin could hear Morgana’s voice raised in reply, although the exact words were indistinguishable. “You’re the one who’s being petty, Morgana. You just can’t admit you were wrong about anything, can you?” he asked, ignoring Merlin’s presence completely.  
  
And so it continued. Arthur would phone Morgana every few days, or send her flowers, or invite her to some party or other. Every time she refused, sometimes politely, sometimes with thinly veiled threats, once she sent Gwen back with the most recent bouquet, only all the blooms had been beheaded. That had been the worst occasion, Merlin would have to say: the blond had sat staring at the decapitated flowers for over an hour, glowering at them, before excusing himself to the gym. Merlin had passed the door to the gym half an hour later and seen Arthur still taking out his anger on the punching bag. When he had eventually relented and come back, Merlin had had to clean the bloody grazes on his knuckles.  
  
But it still was not as bad as he had been two years ago when they had broken up.  
  
Finally, Morgana broke, or maybe she just wanted to make her point more difficult to avoid, but she agreed to go to dinner with Arthur – once – just to shut him up. Merlin groaned when he heard the news. He liked Morgana, he really did, but he wished he could just have had a little word with her. Her refusals had been bad enough, if she had just ignored Arthur he probably would have given up after the fiftieth try or so; but to accept him, even so that she could tell him to his face he was barking up the wrong tree, would just make it worse.  
  
That night Merlin invested in a pack of long pins and toy-Arthur, who was sadly not anatomically correct, found them being stabbed in some rather sensitive places.  
  
Gwen had been right, it did make him feel better.   
  
Savagely, reminding himself that Arthur was a prick and a jerk, who was completely unworthy of Merlin’s interest in him, he held the doll up to the notice board he always took with him from hotel room to hotel room and, with as much effort as he could muster, thrust the final pin through the doll and into the board, right through Arthur’s heart.  
  
He stared at it for a minute venomously.  
  
Then he sighed and ordered room service. His gaze lingered over some of the atrociously named cocktails, but he knew there was going to be a phone call from Arthur at some point that night demanding his presence, and probably a lift, so, he just ordered food and a glass of sparkling water. Why Arthur never rang his driver at times like this was beyond him, but somehow it was always  _his_  job to pick the idiot up when a date went south.  
  
Sure enough, the food had barely arrived when his mobile rang out again and Arthur was grinding his teeth at the other end. He gave the hot food a longing glance, but at least there was a microwave this time.  
  
“I’m on my way.”  
  
***  
  
To say that the date had not gone well was possibly the understatement of the century. When he arrived, Arthur was standing at the rear exit of the restaurant, fuming while a hapless waiter attempted to mop up the wine from his shirt with a cloth. Arthur was pacing back and forth and the poor man was trying to follow him. There was little he could do though.  
  
As soon as Merlin pulled up, Arthur stormed over to the car and got in the back, not even thanking the poor man, although from the look of relief on the waiter’s face, his leaving was probably thanks enough.  
  
“Go well?” Merlin asked, deciding that complete ignorance was probably the best way to play the situation. That way Arthur would get all his yelling out on Merlin and run out of voice before they got back to the hotel.  
  
“Well?” Arthur asked, “ _Well?!_ ” He grabbed his sodden shirt and held it away from his body. “Does this look like it went well?” Merlin shrugged. “No… no Merlin, it did not go well. The infuriating woman laughed in my face and then upended most of a bottle of red wine down my front.” Arthur let go of his shirt and stared sullenly out of the window. “I can’t believe I let her convince me to go out with her again. What was I  _thinking_ , agreeing to that?” Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but there were some conversational holes that even he was wise enough to avoid, so he remained silent.  
  
“I’ll drive you back to your-” Merlin began, but, before he could finish the sentence, Arthur cut him off.  
  
“No, I can’t go back to my room. The press will have gone there already, and there’ll be god  _knows_  how many phone calls waiting for me. We’ll go back to your place.”  
  
“I’m staying at the same hotel you are,” Merlin reminded him, trying not to think about the fact that Arthur was suggesting that he  _sleep_  in Merlin’s  _room_ , and the fact that he  _only had one bed_. He was driving and he needed to concentrate, he could not be thinking about Arthur in his bed right now. He really couldn’t.  
  
He imagined Gaius doing the dance of the seven veils and regretted it immediately. That was far more disturbing and distracting than any thoughts of Arthur.  
  
“Yes, but it’s not like they’re going to go anywhere near  _your_  room,” Arthur insisted. “We’ll take the private entrance and sneak up in the service lift, we should be alright then.”  
  
“Fine…”   
  
The drive back to the hotel was fairly uneventful. Arthur bitched about Morgana, but Merlin had developed the talent of blocking out anything he was not expected to reply to, and humming soft affirmatives at random intervals.   
  
The private entrance to their hotel was only accessible through the underground car park and Arthur had to duck down in the back of the car to get past the crowds of press who were surrounding the entrance. Merlin waved cheerily at them, but they were uninterested in strangely pale, dark-haired men with sticky out ears.   
  
Security at the hotel was good, which was one of the reasons Merlin had chosen it in the first place, so when they got into the car park, there was no one there except for them, the security guards and a couple of other patrons, who were on their way out and did not even bat an eyelid at the sight of Arthur Pendragon, stained with red wine, stalking across the car park towards the service lift with murder in his eyes and a long suffering assistant hurrying after him.  
  
The service lift was often used for such adventures, so there was no problem getting to Merlin’s floor, and that was when he remembered the doll, skewered to the notice board like a hedgehog with interestingly placed spines. He blanched.  
  
“Uh… I’ll go in first, make sure it’s tidy,” he said, slipping the key into the electronic lock. Arthur laughed.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I’ve seen your rooms before and I can honestly say that they were never exactly tidy.”  
  
“Maybe that’s because I spend so long tidying yours,” he muttered, but then Arthur pushed the door open and he was far more concerned with going to stand in front of the notice board than arguing the point.  
  
“It’s not even that bad…” Arthur said, completely ignoring the notice board, much to Merlin’s relief, and crossing over to the living room section of the suite (Merlin had a  _suite_ , which in itself was disturbing; three years and he still felt out of place in anything more posh than a travel inn) and collapsing on the sofa. “I don’t know what you were so worried about.” Merlin risked a glance behind him at the doll, and wondered whether Arthur would just sack him or kill him with the same pins if he saw it. There was a lengthy silence from the other man and Merlin took the opportunity to pull the doll from the wall. Apparently he had been more exasperated than he had thought, because the pin through Arthur’s heart had gone clean through the board and into the wall. He gritted his teeth to stop a grunt of exertion, as he braced himself against the wall for leverage.  
  
Finally the thing pulled free, so suddenly that he fell backwards into the opposite wall and the doll whacked him quite hard on the nose, making his eyes water.  
  
“Ow…” he muttered, glaring at the smaller Arthur, who was apparently as unmanageable as the larger one currently sitting on his sofa eating his room service.  
  
He paused and glanced over again. He knew he should have been more worried when Arthur stopped talking. He walked over to the sofa, shoving the doll into a drawer as quickly as he could.  
  
“This is good pasta,” Arthur said, turning round just as Merlin had hidden the offending object. He quickly perched himself on the chest of drawers and attempted to look innocent.   
  
“Really? I didn’t have time to eat any before I went out,” he said. Arthur frowned slightly before gesturing Merlin to come and join him.  
  
“You mean you haven’t  _eaten_  yet?” he asked. Merlin shook his head. “You’re a moron, you know that?” He handed over another fork and indicated that Merlin should dig in. “I mean, I didn’t get to the eating part of the meal, because of…” he gestured down at his shirt, which was still wet, and clinging to his stomach in a way that made Merlin’s throat go dry. “Talking of which, you don’t have any clean shirts, do you?” Merlin nodded around a mouthful of tagliatelle. “Mind if I borrow one?” Arthur asked, standing up. Merlin gave another nod, and before he had time to consider it, Arthur’s hands were undoing the buttons of his shirt.   
  
Merlin almost choked on his mouthful of pasta as Arthur slid the very expensive shirt off his shoulders and down his arm, dropping it in a small puddle of fabric on the floor.  
  
“Uh…” Merlin said eloquently, dragging his eyes up Arthur’s body to his eyes as quickly as he could. He could  _not_ be caught ogling his employer’s abs, no matter how impressive they were. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rearranging himself a little. Arthur Pendragon was half naked in his hotel room. There was a time when he was younger when this would have been his fantasy.  
  
“Merlin?” Arthur asked.   
  
Who was he kidding? This was still his fantasy…  
  
“Right… clothes. In the bedroom,” he nodded towards the door on the far side of the room. Arthur nodded abruptly and walked off, leaving Merlin staring open-mouthed at his back, his eyes tracing the line of Arthur’s spine down from his neck.  
  
This was not a good idea.  
  
He forced his eyes away and looked back down at the food, grabbing another forkful with suppressed rage. It just wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t Arthur just be a prick? Then he would just quit, and it wouldn’t even matter because he would have stopped fancying him by now anyway. But for every pratty thing that Arthur did, he always did something dreadfully nice as well, which more than made up for the demands and the ranting and the fact that Merlin had no life of his own. If he could have just been a wholly insufferable git, rather than giving him a  _birthday present_  and  _making sure he ate_  then he could have hated him for being undeservingly rich and that would have been that.  
  
His thoughts were distracted from  _Arthur, half-naked_  in his  _bedroom_ , by the incessant ringing of his phone. For once, he was sure it wasn’t Arthur, because even he was not so lazy that he would call when all he had to do was stick his head around the door and yell.   
  
It was Gaius.  
  
“ _Morgana threw wine at him?_ ” were the first words out of the Physician’s mouth.  
  
“Yes,” Merlin replied simply.  
  
“ _In public_.”  
  
“If it had been in private I don’t think we’d be having this conversation,” Merlin pointed out, and Gaius hesitated.  
  
“ _You think you’re funny._ ”  
  
“Sometimes.”  
  
“ _What are we going to do? The press are going to be all over this. I’ve had the phone ringing off the hook since it happened. This is the first break I’ve had. What happened?_ ”  
  
“I’m not entirely sure. I think that Arthur was Arthur and Morgana was Morgana and that was pretty much that.” Merlin said, running a hand through his hair.  
  
“ _Why didn’t you stop them?_ ” Gaius asked.  
  
“I tried, but you know Arthur won’t listen to a word I say when he’s got an idea in his head.”  
  
“ _We have to fix this somehow._ ” Gaius pointed out. Merlin already knew that. “ _And quickly._ ”  
  
“How do we do that?” He asked curiously.  
  
“ _Lunch, tomorrow,_ ” Gaius replied, “ _They go out to lunch, they smile for the cameras, they make nice, everything goes well, they’re friends, they’re happy, the press is happy, the public is happy and I’m happy._ ”  
  
“You want to solve the problem of them going out for a meal and almost killing each other by making them go out for another meal?” Merlin asked, not able to keep the tone of disbelief out of his voice.  
  
“ _Yes, we have to make it seem like they were just involved in a little spat, but everything got sorted out._ ”  
  
“And how do we stop them from killing each other again?”  
  
“ _They’re actors! We get them to_  act  _like they like each other,_ ” was Gaius’ only idea. If Merlin had had enough energy to care, he probably would have laughed, but his higher brain function had left the building and all he was left with was: tired, hungry and  _holy shit, Arthur’s half naked in my bedroom_.  
  
“Good luck with that,” he said, about to hang up.  
  
“ _You’ll be the one convincing Arthur,_ ” Gaius pointed out. “ _Do you think you can handle him?_ ” In a display of utterly perfect timing, Arthur chose that second to walk out of Merlin’s room. The two of them were a  _little_ different in size and the t-shirt, which would have been loose on Merlin, was stretched a little tight across Arthur’s chest and his biceps. Merlin stared at him for a second. “ _Merlin?_ ” He really needed to stop zoning out like that while staring at Arthur, it was getting pathetic.  
  
No, it already was pathetic, it was getting disturbing.  
  
“I think I should be able to. Bye Gaius.” He hung up before the older man could inflict any more ill-conceived plans on him and smiled at Arthur, who gave him a weary grin.  
  
“You haven’t eaten it all, have you?” Arthur asked, coming back to sit opposite him. Merlin shook his head and offered Arthur the rest of the plate. “Don’t be an idiot. You need it more than I do. I never realised just how skeletal you were until I tried on your clothes. Do you weigh anything?”   
  
“I’m not  _that_  skinny,” Merlin protested and Arthur snorted slightly in disbelief. “I’m not… I just have a very fast metabolism.”  
  
“And I keep interrupting your meals,” Arthur added. Merlin shrugged a vague affirmative. “You know,” the actor said, pausing slightly and looking across at Merlin with a sly smile, “there is such a thing as a cupboard, you know.”  
  
“Yes, I am familiar with the concept,” Merlin agreed.  
  
“Then why don’t you use one?” Arthur asked, leaning over to grab a piece of tagliatelle with his fingers, raising it above his head and slowly sucking it into his mouth. Merlin looked away quickly. “All your stuff’s still in your suitcase.” Merlin shrugged.  
  
“We move around so much, I guess I don’t see the point any more.” Arthur frowned and opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but then thought better of it and changed the subject, glancing away from Merlin back to the food.  
  
“What did Gaius want?” he asked and Merlin winced, he had been hoping to lead up to that conversation.  
  
“He… uh… the incident at the restaurant got a lot of publicity,” he began and Arthur sighed wearily.   
  
“Yes, I thought it would. Morgana can never do anything half-heartedly, can she?” Arthur was one to talk, Merlin thought, but he kept his mind to himself.  
  
“And he was just suggesting some damage control,” he continued. Arthur nodded.  
  
“Sounds like a plan, after all the premiere’s in three days and it’d be better if people were talking about the film rather than my relationships,” he commented. Merlin wondered why he could not have been that pragmatic and sensible  _before_  he started insisting that Morgana go out to dinner with him. “What does he want me to do?”  
  
“Not just you…” Merlin said before he could stop himself. Arthur glanced up quickly. “He… we think it would be a good idea if you and Morgana made some sort of demonstration of friendship.”  
  
“Such as?” Arthur’s voice was low and dangerous and Merlin squirmed under his gaze.  
  
“Well… he thinks that you should… have lunch with her tomorrow, in public.”  
  
“Have lunch with Morgana, after she  _humiliated_  me tonight?” Arthur asked. Merlin elected just to nod. “I’m more likely to stab her with the butter knife.”  
  
“Couldn’t you just  _act_  as though you like her?” Merlin suggested, mimicking Gaius’ words. Arthur simply glared at him. “That is what you  _do_  after all…”  
  
“She’s insufferable, Merlin. She’s so convinced that she’s right and everyone else should just bow to her judgement. She thinks the world revolves around her and…” he hissed, breaking off and standing up to pace up and down the room. Merlin followed his movements with his eyes. Arthur’s words would have been amusing if he were not thinking about how much trouble he would be in if Morgana LeFay were stabbed with a butter knife.   
  
“It’s just one lunch, Arthur… not even that, really,” he said, trying to placate the man. “You just have to show up, give the press a couple of good photo ops and then you can both leave. Just grin and bear it and all that.”  
  
“Lie back and think of England?” Arthur said, pausing to look over at Merlin with a slightly amused smile.  
  
“Exactly… although I suggest you try and keep the meal strictly vertical. There are some photographs we really  _don’t_  want the press to get.” Arthur’s smile spread then, becoming full and genuine and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur would be there tomorrow, he would smile and play nice – as long as Morgana did.  
  
“Fine, I’ll have some stupid lunch with her,” he said, collapsing back down onto the sofa.  
  
“Good, now, how about we start on pudding,” Merlin suggested. Arthur grinned and reached for the bowl of sticky toffee pudding.   
  
***

Thursday afternoon was Arthur’s therapy session, which was probably a good thing because Morgana did not turn up for their lunch.  
  
Merlin was sitting patiently by the counter, Gaius perched next to him, eating some sort of pastry that Merlin was almost positive was going to give him a heart attack, there was that much cream in it. Arthur was sitting, getting gradually more and more frustrated when Gwen walked in and caught Merlin’s eye with an apologetic smile. He was expecting her to cross over to them at the counter, but instead, she headed straight over to Arthur at the table and leant down to tell him something in a hushed voice.  
  
Morgana was not coming. Merlin felt his heart drop as he watched Arthur’s face. Next to him Gaius asked for another cream filled monstrosity, muttering that he was at least going to go out happy.  
  
Gwen turned to go, but as she did so, Arthur caught hold of her arm and gestured for her to sit down opposite him.  
  
It took a lot of will power for Merlin not to go up to them and ask what was going on. But Gwen gave him a look of mixed confusion, terror and apology and he sagged back against the counter again.  
  
“This is not going well,” he said under his breath to Gaius. A plate was waved under his nose and he looked down to see a slice of indecently chocolatey gateau being thrust towards him.  
  
“We might as well make the most of it, I put it on his bill,” Gaius said, turning to watch Arthur and Gwen with him. “At least Arthur might actually get over her this time.” Merlin scoffed and began to dig in.  
  
Arthur and Gwen seemed to be getting along quite well, they were both smiling and Gwen seemed to be relaxing as Arthur cranked the charm up. For a minute Merlin wished that the café sold alcohol, because he could really do with a drink. There was a soft laugh and Merlin winced.  
  
“I wouldn’t worry,” Gaius commented, “she’s a sensible girl, she’s got more sense than to fall for him.” Merlin nodded, but he did not believe it. He knew from personal experience that common sense seemed to fly out of the window when Arthur was concerned. He could charm anyone.  
  
“Right,” he said, watching as Arthur reached out a hand to rest lightly on Gwen’s wrist and she blushed a little. “Of course she is.” He tried to remind himself that Gwen was in a serious relationship and that she wouldn’t cheat on Greg ever, but he attacked the gateau with a little too much vehemence all the same.  
  
Gwen left without saying goodbye and Merlin was called away by Arthur as they headed for his appointment.  
  
The drive was tense, although Merlin was certain he was the only one who felt it. Arthur spent the entire trip cursing Morgana. Merlin was slowly losing the will to live, and as the drive continued his answers became shorter and shorter until he was simply muttering meaningless consonant sounds at Arthur. The man did not appear to notice.  
  
“I can’t  _believe_  her,” Arthur growled as they pulled up outside the doctor’s office.   
  
Merlin made an affirmative humming noise and slipped out of the vehicle, heading towards the office. The first few months they had done this, the street had been filled with cameras and the papers had been full of ‘star in breakdown?’ ‘Arthur losing his marbles?’ but after a year the novelty had worn off and people had realised that Arthur was as sane as ever.   
  
The receptionist was a lovely girl, about their age, with a huge crush on Arthur, which Merlin sympathised with. The pair of them got along quite well, actually. They joked with each other and were on a first name basis. She had even tried to ask him out for drinks a few months ago and for once he had been fairly certain it was not just an ‘Arthur substitute’ thing, but he had turned her down for obvious reasons. Luckily it had not hurt their friendship, which he appreciated.  
  
“Hey Merlin…” she said with a cheerful smile, glancing over his shoulder with unrestrained awe at where Arthur was standing admiring the artwork that adorned the walls. “Good week?”  
  
“Hey Hannah… reasonable, really. Could have been better.”  
  
“Couldn’t they all?” she asked with a smile and leaned over to press the intercom button.  
  
“Mr Pendragon here to see Dr Drake,” she said in a clear voice. There was a moment of static before a muffled voice told her to send him on through. Merlin gave her another smile before following Arthur to the lift.   
  
Dr Drake’s office was on the fourth floor, and he had a small waiting area outside where Merlin was expected to sit while Arthur was inside pouring his heart out.   
  
He could never really picture what that would be like. Arthur never gave away too much of his emotions. He would yell or silently fume when he was angry, and he would complain about Morgana, but he never really told you anything. The very idea of Arthur sitting down voluntarily and talking out his problems seemed unnatural to Merlin. But there didn’t seem to be any doubt that it worked, because Arthur was still coming back even a year later.  
  
As Arthur walked directly across to the Doctor’s office, Merlin settled down into one of the torturous waiting chairs and reached for a magazine. The selection was atrocious, but he always forgot to bring a book. He flicked through until he found a suitably hilarious looking article –  _My Moobs Ruined My Life_  – and began to read.  
  
The session went as he had expected it would. Despite how ‘nice’ Gwen had been, Arthur was still irritated by Morgana’s actions the previous night and standing him up for lunch, and it was no time at all before man outside heard the voices in the room rise. Well, Arthur’s voice rose, Dr Drake’s always seemed to stay at a reasonable level. Even Gaius never managed to maintain that level of composure when dealing with Arthur in one of his worse moods.   
  
Merlin quite liked Arthur’s therapy sessions. His mobile officially ‘had no signal’ because of the building design and Arthur was off his hands for an hour. Sometimes he just sat and stared at the walls, grateful for a moment to switch off. Of course, that often led to Arthur leaving the office to find him vacant and gormless, which in turn led to a week’s worth of teasing, but it was worth it. He thought he had found his first grey hair the other day, which had thrown him for a loop. This job was making him age far more quickly than he had expected… not that it had been a grey hair, though, just the light shining on one of them oddly.  
  
He read the meaningless article, trying to ignore the fact that there was a photograph of Arthur glowering at him from the opposite page (Top Ten Hot Celebrities 2008). It was vapid and required no higher brain function whatsoever. He sighed in relief.  
  
There was a crash from next door as Merlin came to the end of the article. Arthur had obviously started throwing things. He turned the page and began to hum a Beatles song to himself. It reminded him of his mother and his home. She was always singing the Beatles around the house.  
  
The house he was going home to in three weeks for Christmas. He had managed to find a few minutes to buy a present for her, in between Arthur’s unnecessary audition for his father’s new film and his many attempts to woo Morgana. Uther always made his son audition, even when everyone knew he was the only person for the part. It was one part not wanting to be accused of nepotism, nine parts desire to impress on his son that he was not  _that_ important. The whole thing was a circus, in which Arthur was paraded around like a horse. Merlin found it sickening, but Arthur always got tight-lipped with quiet anger when he brought it up, so they did not talk about it.  
  
He only had a handful of days off, as per usual, but it was enough time to get home. There were only the two of them, really, although Will would probably show up, carrying some bottle of illegally strong alcohol and a huge grin.  
  
The angry voice next door had calmed down and Merlin looked at his watch. The sessions were getting a lot quicker. At the beginning Arthur would still have been shouting when he left, these days he was done with the tantrums when they were barely half way through.  
  
The time ticked slowly by, although far too fast for Merlin’s liking and it seemed like no time at all before Arthur strode, fuming, from Dr Drake’s office. He did not even look at Merlin as he walked towards the doors, pushing them open as hard as he could and expecting his assistant to fall in beside him.  
  
Merlin, as Arthur had known he would, hurried after him, wondering why, when their legs were roughly the same length, it always took him one and a half strides to match each of Arthur’s.  
  
They did not talk about Arthur’s therapy sessions. It was one of the most important rules Merlin had learnt. The first week he had attempted to make polite conversation about it: ‘How did it go?’ ‘Did he tell you that you were completely sane, because you really shouldn’t trust everything these people say? ‘and that sort of thing. Arthur had turned on him and snapped that all such meetings were legally confidential and why should he tell Merlin anything.  
  
That had put an end to that, so Merlin had grown used to reading between the lines and overhearing the little snatches that he could from outside the office, piecing them together so he could predict Arthur’s mood as best as he could.  
  
As soon as they walked out the front door, Merlin’s phone got signal once more and the insistent bleeping informed him that his absence had not meant that the world had stopped.  
  
He dragged it out of his pocket and went through the messages one by one. His mother wanted to know when she should expect him back for Christmas, Will wanted him to know that he was an imbecile, and ask if he had ravaged Arthur against a wall yet. The others were all far less interesting. The editor of one of the leading teen magazines asked whether Arthur would pose for their cover and do an exclusive interview. Gaius told him that the promo shots for Arthur’s last project were ready for him to look over back at the office. Gwen informed him that Morgana was requesting she and Arthur never have another lunch date – ever. At the bottom of the list, the most recent message blinked at him and he grimaced as he saw the sender ID.   
  
Uther Pendragon requested his son’s presence at a charity ball he was holding for Christmas in two weeks time.  
  
Merlin shot a look at Arthur, who was slipping sunglasses back on as they headed to the car that was waiting for them. It was probably not the best time to tell the man that he had to make nice at another of his father’s parties. He would have to let him glare at things for a little while before he broke the news. Looking on the bright side, at least it would help to take Arthur’s mind off Morgana.  
  
In the car, Arthur stared blankly out of the window, his sunglasses still firmly on. If there was any sign that Arthur did not want to talk, that was it. Merlin took his cue and began to reply to the messages as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes down.  
  
He gave his mother his train information, informed people that he would have to check Arthur’s schedule before giving them a definite answer – which was always best when he was first contacted – and told Gaius that they would get back to him by the end of the day. The final reply took a little more concentration.   
  
Merlin had known Will since they were in primary school together. They were always best friends, sometimes lovers and each other’s worst nightmares because they knew  _everything_  there was to know about each other. Will had been with Merlin since the beginning of his crush on Arthur Pendragon. In fact, they had been to see  _Valiant_ together and when Merlin had walked out with a star-struck expression on his face and the conviction that it was utterly the best film he had  _ever_  seen, Will had teased him that he was in love with Arthur.   
  
Years had passed and Will had never let up, and as Merlin had come to realise that maybe he was a little bit infatuated with the unbelievably good looking movie star, Will had mocked his pining mercilessly. Then he had got the job as a cleaner and Will had jokingly laughed that he could become Arthur’s official stalker and then…  
  
Merlin supposed that ‘Arthur’s official stalker’ might as well be his job title. He risked a long glance to the side, and saw Arthur resting his chin on one hand, leaning against the tinted windows. The sun had come out from behind a cloud, and his hair was almost glowing. Merlin tore his eyes away and reminded himself that staring at Arthur was creepy beyond belief and that Arthur was his employer, for crying out loud.  
  
That did not help him in replying to Will, though. He had to be careful with his friend, because Will could read novels into a text message. Merlin sighed and began to tap out a response. He informed Will that he was a pillock with a pea sized brain and that the likelihood of Merlin ravaging Arthur any time soon was only greater than the likelihood that aliens would visit them from Mars and teach them the secret of time travel.  
  
It took about twenty seconds for Will’s reply to come back.   
  
_So it happened yesterday, hey?_ Merlin’s response, was short, to the point and not something that he would ever dream of saying to his mother.  
  
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to see Arthur removing his sunglasses. His eyes looked tired and his mouth was set in a firm line, but the lack of shades was a good sign.  
  
“Merlin?” he said, turning to his assistant, and Merlin resisted the urge to rest a hand on his shoulder. Inappropriate touching was a bad idea.  
  
“Your father wants to know if you’ll be attending the charity ball on the twenty third,” Merlin said as lightly as he could. Arthur scoffed a little.  
  
“You mean he wants  _me_  to know that I’m going to be attending,” he said.  
  
“I had already scheduled it in…” Merlin commented, pulling up a copy of Arthur’s schedule for the next three weeks up on his iphone. “In June, when the date was finalised.”  
  
“Of course you had,” Arthur said with a half smile. “You know, Merlin, sometimes you’re almost competent.”  
  
“Thank you,” Merlin said. “Of course, I could tell him that I mixed up the timetable and got you double booked for that night, if you don’t want to go.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. I’m going. I’ll dance and flirt and be positively charming,” Arthur told him, tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket.   
  
“Don’t strain yourself,” Merlin replied with a small grin of his own. Arthur shot him a suspicious glance, but let the implications slide.   
  
“Well, you’ll be there to elbow me when I get out of hand, won’t you?” Merlin froze at Arthur’s blasé attitude. He opened his mouth and turned, conflicted. “Merlin?”  
  
“You… I’m going home for Christmas on the twenty third.” Arthur gaped at him. “I did tell you – a month ago – and you said it would be alright.”  
  
“Right… yes, of course I did,” he said uncertainly. Merlin paused, unwilling to push the subject further. If the conversation went on too long, he was afraid he would give in and tell Arthur he would stay with him over Christmas, and he really needed to go home and see his mother some time. “You should go. I’ll be fine. Better than fine, actually, because I won’t have you around to fuck things up.”  
  
Merlin smirked and nodded.  
  
“Do you know who else is going?”  
  
“Home for Christmas?” Merlin asked in confusion. Arthur shot him a long, unimpressed, look.  
  
“To the party, idiot. Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with you,” The star shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
  
“Because you need someone to be the butt of your rapier sharp wit and sparkling repartee,” Merlin said without even considering his response. To his surprise, he managed to raise a chuckle.  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
***  
  
The run up to Christmas was a flurry of present buying and photo-shoots with the odd interview thrown in. Merlin found himself flying over to LA for a long weekend, then back to London for a brunch with the script writers of Uther’s newest project. Admittedly, because Arthur insisted on having him on hand for any possible emergency (or just so he could yell at the stewardesses for him and no one would make  _Arthur_  out to be unreasonable) he ended up in first class, but the complimentary champagne and the extra space for the reclining seats did nothing to make up for the fact that they had run out of earplugs.   
  
No earplugs meant he was stuck on a twelve-hour flight with nothing to stop the noise of Arthur’s complaints, commentary on the films that were available and the stars in them, and, when he finally decided sleep would be a good option, the snoring.  
  
That was one thing Merlin had not anticipated before becoming the actor’s assistant. Arthur snored like some sort of pneumatic drill. Merlin had never told him, although he had listened with much amusement to Arthur’s rants after Morgana had mentioned it. It was the only thing that made him question his fantasies. Somehow, the idea of having Arthur in his bed was less appealing when the reason he would not get any sleep was the actor’s nasal passages.  
  
When the seemingly interminable flight finally came to an end, Merlin did not know who was more relieved, him, Arthur, or the stewardesses who gave him sympathetic smiles and handshakes on the way out.  
  
“Apparently the ears aren’t a turn off to everyone,” Arthur said with a yawn as they stepped back onto British soil once again. There were a few photographers to the right and he gave them a small wave and a tired smile.  
  
“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, too exhausted to try and figure out Arthur’s leaps of imagination.  
  
“Those girls back there, you could have joined the mile high club.” Merlin gaped at the back of his head as Arthur walked off to the baggage retrieval point.  
  
There was no time to sleep though, as they were whisked off to the brunch and Merlin had to pay attention and take notes because he could tell that Arthur was struggling to stay awake, for all he looked bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Merlin whipped out his notebook and took longhand notes as quickly as he could, although he found, when they came to the end of the meeting that more than half of the page was filled with doodles of interesting ways to kill people on a film set. Some of them had suspiciously light hair and smug smiles.  
  
He sighed as they settled back into the car and looked down at the schedule again. Three more meetings before they would get a chance for a rest.  
  
Nothing changed for the rest of the three weeks, every day was full of activity. Arthur insisted on every little thing being completely perfect and Merlin had to make sure that everything would chunter along happily while he was away. He was not egocentric, but he was pretty sure that without him to arrange everything and manipulate Arthur into doing the things he was supposed to, the well oiled mechanism that was Arthur’s life would grind to a halt.  
  
Arthur was spending Christmas with his father and a cohort of servants and relations, so he should not get into any trouble, and even if he did the people at hand were more than capable of dealing with it. Merlin made sure that everyone possible had his number, though, just in case of emergencies. He didn’t fancy finding out when he came back that Arthur had accidentally killed himself in a freak accident.  
  
The morning of the twenty-third dawned brilliant and frosty, and Merlin spent most of it on the phone with Uther’s secretary, trying to make sure that the arrangements for the party that night were ready. He checked Arthur’s date book five times and highlighted everything that he thought might go wrong. He grabbed Arthur and gave him a list of things not to say that night, and a list of people he would have to talk to at the event, including several members of the royal family who had been invited.  
  
“No comments about the Queen or the Prince of Wales, please,” he said, sighing as he remembered the last time Arthur had horribly insulted the monarchy to one of their cousins. “And if in doubt about who a person is…”  
  
“Get them to introduce themselves to someone else,” Arthur said in a bored tone, “I have done this before, you know. I was the one who taught  _you_  how to behave at things like that.”  
  
“But you never follow your own rules,” Merlin pointed out, thrusting a pile of clothes into Arthur’s arms. “This is what you should be wearing… You’re not allowed to clash with the decorations apparently.”  
  
“Blue?” Arthur asked looking down at the shirt. “I hate blue.” He glared at the offending articles and pushed them back towards Merlin, but he just crossed his arms and refused to take them.  
  
“Like I said, Marjorie doesn’t want anyone to clash with her decorations, so…”  
  
“Who’s Marjorie?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Your father’s party planner,” Merlin said, wondering if he should add ‘harpy’ to the description. He had only met the woman on two occasions, but on both of those she had made him feel about two feet tall. If she said she did not want anyone to clash with the décor, then no one would clash with the décor.  
  
“Right… so blue?”  
  
“Yes, Arthur… Now. My taxi’s in five minutes, so are you sure you’ve got everything?”  
  
“I’m not incompetent, Merlin,” Arthur snapped, still glaring down at the clothing with distaste.  
  
“It’s just a colour, Arthur... relax,” he said, ignoring his employer’s comment, and reminding himself that, for the next three days he was free. “You know my number if anything goes horribly wrong… and I mean  _horribly_ , Arthur. I am not getting the train all the way back here if someone accidentally spills champagne on you.”  
  
“Just go, Merlin. I’ll be fine,” Arthur insisted, standing up to shoo him out of the door. “I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.”  
  
Merlin only wished he could be as certain of that as he loaded his bag into the boot of the taxi and asked for the train station. As he was getting into the back seat his phone buzzed in his back pocket and he groaned when he saw who the text was from. Arthur had probably dropped something down the back of his desk or something. He hit read and looked down.  
  
_Have a good Christmas, idiot_.  
  
He grinned and looked up in roughly the direction of Arthur’s window. It was too much to hope that the man was watching his taxi leave, but there was a small part of his brain, the part that wanted to cry at Titanic and admit that he sometimes listened to songs for the lyrics but never did because he was not a little girl (even if he did have a little girl’s crush on Arthur Pendragon), which hoped that blue eyes were watching him go.  
  
The train was packed. He had not taken first class, seeing as he was on his own and the price of first class train tickets these days was scandalous. The man across the table from him was drinking a plastic bottle of cheap cider, and across the aisle a student was reading some book that looked more like an encyclopaedia than a textbook. He sighed and got out his own book, but it had been so long since he had a chance to read it that he had forgotten everything that had happened and he had to start from the beginning again.  
  
The annoying thing about living in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere was that you had to get the train that stopped at every single station, which took a couple of hours longer than any other train.  
  
He found it highly depressing that, even though he had set off in the morning, sunset had already come and gone by the time the train came in to the station and he shuffled off onto the platform, checking his pockets and counting his bags several times in paranoia.  
  
His mother was standing at the far end of the platform and he could not help but smile as he caught sight of her and she ran towards him to pull him into a bear hug.  
  
“Hey Mum…” he said lifting her up and marvelling, as he always did when he saw her again, at how short she seemed in real life.  
  
“Good journey?” she asked, shouldering one of his bags without question. He tried to take it off her, but she slapped his hand away.  
  
“Long.”  
  
“Good thing that I’ve got a hot dinner and a warm bed waiting for you, isn’t it?” Merlin grinned and walked a little taller. “It’s good to see you.”  
  
“It’s good to be back,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It was nice to be just Merlin again and not Merlin, Arthur’s slave. “And I have missed your cooking.”  
  
“You certainly look like you have,” she said with a disapproving frown, poking at his ribs. “Have they been starving you down in London?”   
  
“I eat!” he protested, but she looked unconvinced.  
  
“Not enough...” she said.  
  
“Well, I’m not going to object if you want to feed me,” he said with a shrug and a small laugh.  
  
***  
  
Dinner was as delicious as Merlin had expected, and afterwards his mother commented on the bags under his eyes and shooed him off to bed immediately.  
  
Merlin dumped his bags on the floor and collapsed onto the bed without bothering to get undressed. His room looked exactly the same as it always had. Hunith had not changed a thing, from the posters covering the walls to the postit note reminders to himself that were scattered across every surface. He sighed and closed his eyes when the phone in his trouser pocket buzzed again.  
  
“Fuck…” he breathed to himself. He hoped that was Will asking if he was back yet, or else he was going to kill something.  
  
It wasn’t Will.  
  
_Charity balls are boring_. Arthur’s text message read. Merlin had tried, at first, to ignore Arthur’s pointless messages, but ignoring the git only meant that he would keep texting until Merlin’s inbox was completely clogged. Merlin would turn his phone off immediately, but Arthur was more likely to take the hint if Merlin at least showed an interest first.  
  
_Tough. Suck it up_. He sent back. A few minutes of staring at the ceiling later, the reply came.  
  
_There’s no one here worth talking to_.  
  
_I’m on holiday, Arthur._ He pointed out.  _I don’t have to talk to you, either_.  
  
There was no reply after that, which was unusual, but not exactly unwelcome. He could only hope that Arthur had either drunk himself into a coma and been surreptitiously escorted to one of the guest rooms by his father’s employees, or had found someone more interesting to bother than Merlin. If the man had done anything terrible Merlin would have been informed.  
  
Unless he had burnt the building down and killed everyone.  
  
But Arthur would never do that… on purpose.  
  
Blazing inferno or not, there was nothing Merlin could do about it now, or from where he was, so he might as well sleep so he could deal with it better in the morning.  
  
***  
  
Christmas Eve was probably Merlin’s favourite day of the year, anticipation, good food, relaxing, and Midnight mass… at midnight. His mother had decorated the tree already, which had used to be Merlin’s job, and the two of them would just sit on the sofa watching television for half of the day.   
  
These days the companionable silence would be punctuated with questions about his job. Hunith wanted to know everything there was to know about Arthur and Gwen and Gaius, who she had known at some point in the dim distant past. She smiled at him gently as he described Arthur’s ill-fated attempts to resume his relationship with Morgana.  
  
“Then he started asking me about Gwen,” Merlin continued with a laugh. “First he wanted to know if we were going out – which was ridiculous in itself – then he kept asking me what sort of stuff she liked. In the end Gwen had to take him over to one side at one of the casting meetings and explain that she’s seeing Greg, has been for three years and they’re talking about getting married. Of course, after that, he acted like he’d never been after her at all.”  
  
“You look relieved that she said no,” his mother said quietly. Merlin stopped with a start, shrugging a little self-consciously.   
  
“Well, you know, girls tend to get a little  _odd_  when Arthur pays any attention to them. It’s different with Morgana, she’s famous enough that he doesn’t… she doesn’t see him as some sort of superior being. But most people don’t think of him as being available, so when he shows that he is, they get…”  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
“I didn’t want her to screw things up with Greg just because Arthur thought that he might fancy her,” he said, looking away and standing up. “Would you like some tea?” She nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips as he fled the room.  
  
His mother knew he was gay, of course she knew he was gay. He had never been able to keep anything from her and, within a week of the first time he and Will had kissed experimentally, she had sat down at the dinner table and told him that she had no qualms about him having sex with whoever he wanted to, as long as he was safe and knew what he was doing. And at least, if it was a man, she didn’t have to worry about unwanted pregnancies.   
  
He had gaped at her, and turned a shade of red that she had later affectionately teased him about. When he had asked her how she had known she had shrugged and offered him seconds.  
  
Sometimes it was as though she could read his mind, and that made him feel more than a little terrified. She knew he had liked Arthur when he was younger, anyone walking into his room would have known that, but he had thought that his current infatuation was quite well hidden. Except Gwen knew, and Will… and possibly Gaius, but he was never sure when Gaius was joking and when he was being serious. Those comments about old married couples might have just been some twisted joke.  
  
The subject did not come up again, however, and they settled down to enjoy the rest of the evening. Hunith co-opted Merlin into helping prepare the vegetables and the turkey, which led to a light hearted argument about whether they needed so much food. By the time they had finished there was enough to feed a small army, not including the giant turkey.   
  
“So I guess you’ll be eating turkey soup ‘til judgement day,” Merlin said with a laugh as they looked at their handiwork.  
  
“I invited Will round for lunch, and you know the pair of you eat like horses, and I meant what I said about you not eating enough,” she surveyed his frame with a mixture of distaste and worry that only a mother could manage. “I’m sure you’ve lost weight. You’re nothing but skin and bones these days.” He swiftly distracted her with questions about distant relatives.  
  
There still had not been a reply from Arthur, but since there had been no message or frantic phone call from anyone else either saying ‘Arthur’s been found dead in a ditch’ or ‘Arthur’s done it again, sort it out’, he presumed that everything was going fine.  
  
They bundled up warm for Midnight mass. Merlin hadn’t worn a proper scarf since Christmas the year before and found himself grinning like an idiot as he wrapped it round his neck and his mother threw a woolly hat and a pair of gloves at him.  
  
“I don’t need gloves, Mum,” he protested as he watched her doing up her coat. She just looked at him and he pulled them on in spite of himself, poking at his ears until they went underneath the edges of the hat instead of being forced out further.  
  
St Margaret’s Church was one of those typical country churches, thick stone walls, beautiful stained glass windows and a box in the narthex asking for contributions to the roof fund. It was less than ten minutes walk from the house, so they didn’t bother with the car, hurrying along the pavements in the deadly cold. Every breath Merlin expelled slid to one side in a cloud of steam, and he felt a little like a dragon, puffing out smoke.  
  
More than half the village turned out to midnight mass, even those who usually avoided church for one reason or another, and Merlin and his mother had to squeeze in at the back. There was no sign of Will though, which was not unusual. They had been fifteen when Will had decided that he was an atheist and stood up in their GCSE RS class to question their teacher’s beliefs. She had stammered and squirmed under his interrogation until Merlin had taken pity on her and kicked Will under the table to make him shut up.  
  
It had taken another three weeks for Merlin to convince Will that he was not interested in hearing about the hypocrisy of organised religion and another two months for Will to explain, in dribs and drabs, his inability to believe in an all knowing deity who gave a shit about him when his father had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumour the year before.  
  
The conversations about religion had ended after that.  
  
Merlin wasn’t sure what he believed really, and he had never found the time away from home to go to any sort of religious event, but he did like midnight mass. There was something magical about it, and the carol singing was fun. So he went along with his mother and joined in.  
  
***  
  
Christmas passed quietly, as it always did, presents were opened, phone calls were made and Mrs Partridge next door came around to wish them a good day and make bad jokes about pear trees. Will came around at twenty to one, bearing gifts, though not of gold, frankincense, or myrrh as he had threatened, and they sat down to Christmas lunch, bickering happily.  
  
“You work too hard,” Will commented, batting Merlin’s hands out of the way to get to the stuffing first. Merlin stuck his tongue out and stole a roast potato off his plate.  
  
“I do my job,” he said with a shrug.  
  
“Which involves you staying up working until four am?” Will asked again, compensating for his missing potato by taking two more.   
  
“That was one night, when you happened to ring me and there was a late event going on. I had to be available in case Arthur called,” he reached across the table to grab the cranberry sauce and had his hand slapped away by his mother, who gave him a hard look. “Could you please pass the cranberry sauce?” he asked dutifully. Will smirked at him across the table as Hunith passed Merlin the sauce and then reached out to take more meat, only to have the same process repeated on him.   
  
“You always have to be available for Arthur,” Will shot back bitterly, “your entire life is spent waiting for Arthur to need you! You have to get out and live your own life, Merlin. He’s slowly destroying you.”  
  
“Will…” Merlin began. They had had this argument before. “He pays me to take care of things… it’s just... intense.”  
  
“Yeah, intense,” Will said round a mouthful of turkey, “right. Last time I checked slavery was illegal.”  
  
“I’m not his slave,” Merlin repeated.  
  
“As good as,” Will told him. “You can’t run around arranging the prat’s life forever. Just tell me, when are you going to quit?”  
  
Merlin reached out his forked and savagely speared a roast parsnip from Will’s plate holding it up triumphantly.   
  
“When he doesn’t need me anymore,” he said, before sticking the parsnip in his mouth and chewing with a self satisfied grin. “Best Christmas dinner ever, Mum.” He said, changing the conversation without bothering with subtlety. Will glared at him from across the table.  
  
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “Eat as much as you want, Will, there’s plenty more.”  
  
“There really is,” Merlin agreed, “we had a mountain of vegetables last night and that turkey was huge.”  
  
“Thanks, Hunith,” Will said quietly, dropping his head down and beginning to eat with a single-mindedness that raised Merlin and his mother’s eyebrows. Over the table, Merlin shifted uncomfortably, realising that the conversation had got a little out of hand. Will muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘bloody Arthur bloody Pendragon,’ but Merlin let it slide that once. It was Christmas after all.  
  
The turkey was taken out and the pudding brought in, covered in blue flame. Polite conversation was made and crackers were pulled.  
  
Traditionally, after dinner, Will and Merlin would do the dishes while Hunith took a little time off to watch the Queen’s speech, or anything more interesting she could find. In previous years there had been bubble fights and singing of Christmas songs. Will had always loved Fairytale of New York, and made Merlin do the girl’s parts. But the pair of them were practically silent as they began, Will washing, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he scrubbed furiously at the baking tray. To one side, Merlin watched him pensively.  
  
“You know, I don’t know why you hate him so much,” he said after a moment. “If you just got over yourself sometime and let me introduce the pair of you, you’d probably like each other.”  
  
“Get  _over myself_?” Will asked, incredulously. He turned, soap suds floating out as he twirled around, some sticking to his hands and shirt, one enterprising clump of bubbles even making it to his chin. “I don’t think  _I’m_  the one who needs to get over myself. You remember when we were at school and you wanted to save the world? You said you were going to go to Africa and do charity work, or become a Doctor or a scientist and invent something that would change people’s lives.” He sighed. “Now you’re slaving for some overstuffed film star, who can’t act and thinks he’s God’s gift to the world and you’re so blindly infatuated with him you don’t even realise you’re not yourself anymore, you’re just his fucking lapdog.”  
  
“I am  _not_ ,” Merlin yelled back, although privately he knew Will had a point. “And who says I’m not helping to save the world?” he asked. “Arthur does lots of charity work.”  
  
“You mean you write a cheque every now and then on his behalf and send it to a charity he picked out at random,” Will said scathingly.  
  
“That’s not true… Arthur’s going to Africa next year for Comic Relief,” Merlin said stubbornly.   
  
“Good for Arthur,” Will said, swivelling back to look down at the sink. “Good for him, he’s just so  _generous_  and  _wonderful_ , isn’t he?” Merlin didn’t reply, just seized the baking tray from him as he finished rinsing it off. “You’re so full of shit, Merlin.”  
  
“Please, Will…” Merlin said with a sigh, “It’s Christmas.”  
  
“Peace on earth and good will to all men.”  
  
“Precisely,” Merlin said, risking a little smile as Will looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. It did not work.  
  
“Well maybe I’m fed up with Good Will.”  
  
The rest of the dishes were done in silence, except for the odd question about where something went, Hunith having decided to rearrange the kitchen while Merlin was gone, and what to do with the left-overs. The pair of them avoided looking at each other and then, as Merlin put away the last mug, Will turned silently on his heel and stuffed his hands in his pockets, heading for the front door.  
  
“Bye Hunith, thanks for dinner, and the coat,” he said as he pulled the door open. Merlin winced as it slammed behind him and slumped down onto a chair.  
  
After a few minutes Hunith came in, looking for her son.  
  
“Merlin?” she said, leaning in the doorway. Merlin looked up at her and knew that she had heard every word.  
  
“I don’t understand what his problem is,” Merlin muttered, “it’s my job, not his. I’m the one who should be complaining.” Hunith crossed over to him and pulled him into a gentle hug, stroking his hair.  
  
“Perhaps he’s complaining for you, because he doesn’t think you can,” she suggested.  
  
“But… I  _do_  complain. I complain all the time,” Merlin said, remembering lengthy conversations with Gwen and the doll with the pins stuck in it that was shoved unceremoniously in one of his bags. “That’s practically all I do. It doesn’t mean I want to resign though. I like what I do it’s just…”  
  
“It’s your life,” she said into his hair, pulling back and looking up into his face with a sad smile. Merlin shrugged. “Are you happy?” she asked.   
  
“Yes,” Merlin answered, he didn’t even have to think about it. He hated washing Arthur’s clothes and cooking him breakfast and making sure he knew who everyone was at a party and organising his schedule and fielding calls from his father, but at the same time he sort of loved it.   
  
“Then that’s all I’m worried about,” she said, “now… how about we break open another bottle of wine?”  
  
“You’re going to become an alcoholic at this rate, Mum,” he joked with a weak smile. Hunith gave him a light cuff round the back of the head, as she always had done when he was rude. “Hey! Child abuse!”  
  
“You’re an adult,” she pointed out and he sulked for a second, “and I hardly think that a bottle of wine on Christmas day makes me an alcoholic.”  
  
“It’s a slippery slope,” he said, shaking his head and waggling a finger in front of her nose.   
  
“Get the glasses and go and turn the afternoon film on… what is it anyway?” she asked.  
  
“ _The Beginning of the End_ ,” Merlin said without even thinking about it. “Morgana’s second to last. She’s actually really good in it. Almost won that Oscar as well.” Hunith gave him an amused look and he shifted uncomfortably. “What? It’s my job to know stuff like that… and she’s a friend.”  
  
“I still have a hard time believing it…” she said with a rueful smile, picking up a bottle of red from the worktop. “You’re friends with people who get nominated for Oscars…” she waited a second. “Are you going to get any glasses, or do you want to swig this from the bottle?”  
  
They curled up on the sofa again to watch Morgana’s film and Merlin irritated his mother by commenting on the actors.  
  
“She’s had a boob job,” he said as the main female antagonist came on screen. “Last year, when she said she was going to Switzerland, she checked into one of those clinics.”  
  
“Merlin…” Hunith said, turning to look at him, “I don’t want to hear about her breasts, if I did I’d read the gossip columns.”  
  
“Sorry Mum.”  
  
The film was getting to its climax, where Morgana’s character aided the escape of the refugee she had fallen in love with, when a knock came at the door.  
  
Merlin levered himself off the sofa, and left his Mum to watch the touching parting scene between the two characters. She had always been an old romantic. He opened the door and froze when he saw who was on the other side.  
  
“What are you doing here?” he asked, a little more bitterly than he had wanted to.   
  
“It’s Christmas,” Will said, shifting from foot to foot, looking over Merlin’s shoulder at where his mother was on the sofa.   
  
“It is,” Merlin agreed. Will reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him out and letting the door swing shut behind him. “It’s freezing out here,” Merlin protested, wrapping his arms around himself. “What do you want, Will?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Will muttered and Merlin nodded. They stared at each other for a second before Will reached out to grab Merlin by the shoulders and dragged their faces together until his lips crashed against Merlin’s. It took a moment or two before Merlin relaxed, smiling into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Will’s neck stealing as much of the other mans’ heat as he could, pressing them together and ignoring the fact that they were on his doorstep in the middle of winter.  
  
“You should apologise more often,” he said as they pulled away. Will chuckled. They stopped for a second, just breathing, arms still wrapped around each other before the moment was broken by a call from inside the house.  
  
“If you two have kissed and made up then maybe you should come inside before my son catches his death of cold,” Hunith commented and Merlin could feel himself flushing brilliant red as Will cringed slightly.  
  
“Come on in,” Merlin said, turning to push the door open and tugging Will in after him.  
  
At the end of the film, as Will and his mother argued about what game to play before the inevitable turkey sandwiches, Merlin snuck a look at his phone. There was no further word from Arthur, which was unsettling. He didn’t think he had gone this long without Arthur contacting him in some way since he had met the man. It felt like there was something wrong, in the pit of his stomach. His finger hovered over the call button, but Will’s voice distracted him.  
  
“Hey, dreamer, Trivial Pursuit or Pictionary?” he asked. Merlin shoved his phone back into his pocket and applied himself to the problem at hand although part of his brain was still worrying.  
  
***  
  
Merlin’s train the next day was delayed by an hour, not that that was surprising. He managed to get his reserved seat though, which was unusual and he settled down to rest for the next few hours.  
  
Halfway through the journey, his worries were allayed by a buzzing in his pocket.  
  
_Shouldn’t you be back by now?_  
  
He could picture Arthur asking that very question, and he texted back immediately.  
  
_Train was delayed. I’ll call you when I get in._ It was a long moment before his phone buzzed again, except it wasn’t Arthur this time.  
  
_Merlin, ur back 2day right?_ Gwen sent. Merlin shot back an affirmative.  _Morgana says 2 keep an eye on Arthur. Stop him doing nething stupid._  
  
That did not sound good. Merlin stared at the screen for a moment. Morgana, when she was not busy causing Arthur’s black moods and anger, was quite good at spotting when he was about to fly off the handle or get into something he should not. He paused before replying. The last time Morgana would have seen Arthur was Uther’s Christmas party on the twenty-third. Whatever she was talking about must have happened then and Gwen had just not wanted to interrupt his holiday.   
  
“Bugger,” he muttered, earning himself a dirty look from the woman next to him. He smiled apologetically at her before turning back to the text.  
  
_Such as?_ He asked, trying to keep as vague as possible. He held onto his phone until the reply came through.  
  
_Not sure. Something 2 do w Sophia._ Gwen sent back to him.  
  
_Who’s Sophia?_ He wrote out and, before sending, he added Arthur and Gaius to his list of recipients.  
  
Three minutes later and all the answers were in.  
  
According to Gwen, Sophia was ‘ _Some girl from the party. M thinks there’s sth off abt her_ ’  
  
Gaius’ answer was even more worrying, all he replied was ‘ _I don’t know. Keep an eye on her._ ’  
  
Arthur had only one word to say on the subject, ‘ _Incredible_ ,’ which Merlin did not find particularly encouraging.   
  
He took a deep breath and thudded his head back against the seat, ignoring the woman next to him as she glared at him again. He went away for a few days and what happened, Arthur had decided to become obsessed with someone new. Brilliant, that was just brilliant.   
  
He decided to keep an open mind. Just because Morgana thought there was something off about her and Gaius had no idea who she was, didn’t mean that it was time to panic. For all he knew, she could be some sweet, friendly girl who would make friends with him, be great for Arthur and help keep him down to earth.  
  
That didn’t help his jealousy, but he pushed it down savagely. Arthur was straight and Merlin would have to get used to this. The man wouldn’t be doing one night stands forever. There were bound to be relationships as well, and Merlin would have to get on with Sophia.  
  
Of course, she could be an evil, gold-digging, bitch monster. He smiled a little but told himself off sternly for prejudicing himself against the girl. She could be wonderful. He had to keep telling himself that. She could be wonderful.  
  
***

She wasn’t wonderful.   
  
Sophia was as irritating, smug and vicious a person as Merlin had ever had the misfortune to meet, though Arthur didn’t see it. She was half French, as she took great pleasure in telling Merlin, repeatedly, and whenever Arthur came anywhere near her, she would flutter her eyelashes in a way that made Merlin think she had something in her eye, but Arthur seemed to find charming.   
  
There was something utterly fake about Sophia, but Merlin could never quite put his finger on what it was. He had thought he was used to fake; he lived around actors and people whose jobs were to lie through their teeth. There was nothing real in his life, as far as he was concerned, except him. But then Sophia came in and suddenly he realised that everything was real but her.   
  
It was not any one thing, not her accent, nor her breasts, nor the way she glared at Merlin when he interrupted her time alone with Arthur. It was everything. Her smile was fake, her clothes were fake, her attitude was fake. The way she walked seemed fake, even the way she ate, taking tiny mouthfuls and sucking them off the fork.   
  
He mentioned it to Arthur once, and only once, and for the first time the vase that was being thrown across the room was actually aimed  _at_  his head.  
  
Arthur stopped going to his therapy sessions, as well, because ‘I’m happy, Merlin. I don’t need to talk about my problems when I don’t have any.’  
  
Merlin could list Arthur’s problems – right down to the fact that one of his toenails was growing too long and making holes in his socks – and the first thing on that list was Sophia. She was the root cause of many of the other problems.   
  
Filming had started on Uther’s new project a week after Christmas. At first it had been fine. Merlin had rearranged a few costume fittings because of dates with Sophia and he had smiled and nodded before bitching to Gwen as soon as he got out of the room, but it had all been fine. Then the production had started in earnest and Arthur… was nowhere to be found. Romantic walks in the park, or out partying late into the night, turning up in the morning hung-over, with sunglasses on permanently because his eyes were so bloodshot.  
  
Merlin was considering adding in ‘bodily fluid charges’ to his wages because the amount of vomit he had cleaned up from Arthur’s room in the last week was beyond a joke, not that it had ever been amusing. But before, Arthur would get angry or petulant, go out on a bender one night and then sleep for a day. It would never last longer than a weekend and never interfere with his work. Now it was every night, and Merlin, forced while they were on-set to live in the room next door, had to put up with him and Sophia rolling in drunk every night for another round of enthusiastic sex.  
  
It was probably the worst week of his life. Worse than the week his hamster had died, worse than the week he and Will had not spoken. It was hell.  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled from the next room. There were no civil conversations between them any more, just commands and answers that were polite enough not to get him fired and arsy enough to keep Merlin from exploding. “Get in here!”  
  
He walked round as slowly as he could, restraining himself from yelling back “Fuck off!” because he liked his job, he really did, he just did not like this new Arthur who had no sense of responsibility or respect for other people.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked, keeping his face blank as he took in the scene that was Arthur’s room. The star was sitting on the end of his bed, his shirt off and Sophia was sitting next to him in her underwear, smiling like the cat who had got the cream as she ran her fingers up and down Arthur’s back and whispered things in his ear that made him smirk. As soon as Arthur looked up, though, the smirk was gone.  
  
“Filming starts tomorrow, Merlin,” he said, as though Merlin needed reminding of that. Uther had been calling him every day demanding to know what Arthur thought he was doing and reminding Merlin that it was his job to make sure Arthur turned up to his appointments and got all his messages. Merlin did not like dealing with Arthur’s father, he especially did not like lying to the man because the producer had some sort of sixth sense which meant he could always tell, even over the phone – even over  _email_  – when Merlin was lying.  
  
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. Sticking to the facts seemed a safe bet, despite the fact that he wanted to scream at Arthur and show him what a conniving bitch was sat next to him.  
  
“My costume for the first scenes isn’t ready,” Arthur continued.  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Merlin agreed again, through gritted teeth.  
  
“Why isn’t it ready, Merlin?” the actor asked, his voice as dangerous as Merlin had ever heard it. His assistant drew in a deep breath and a little voice inside his head that sounded a lot like Will told him to go for it.  
  
“Perhaps because you didn’t show up to a fitting until a few days ago,” he said. He meant to stop there, but it seemed that once he had started talking, he couldn’t stop himself. “And given the amount of costumes they have to make, I hardly think it’s fair on them to have put it off for that long and then demand that they make it in such a short amount of time. They don’t work for you, Arthur.”  
  
“But you do, Merlin,” Arthur snapped out, interrupting his assistant’s tirade. “And I think it’s about time that I reminded you that as your employer I deserve your respect. You don’t talk back to me like that, and as far as you’re concerned, my name is Mr Pendragon… understand? I’ve been far too lenient with you.” Sophia was smiling as she kissed Arthur’s shoulder and Merlin could feel rage burning in his chest, although the voice, now sounding a lot like his mother, asked if it wasn’t a little jealousy as well.  
  
“When you deserve my respect, Mr Pendragon,” he said, putting as much sarcasm as he dared into the address, “I’ll give it to you… may I leave?”  
  
“You’re treading on thin ice, Merlin,” Arthur told him, “I could have you fired for your insolence.”  
  
“Arthur,” Sophia said, and the young star’s face softened as he turned to her. His soppy doe-eyed look was almost enough to make Merlin throw up. “I think we have better things to be doing… just leave it for now. I’m sure he’ll sort everything out.”  
  
Arthur nodded and leaned in to kiss her, pausing only long enough to speak three words.  
  
“Get out, Merlin.”  
  
“My pleasure, Mr Pendragon,” Merlin snapped back, turning smartly on his heel and stalking out of the room, his hands balled into fists.  
  
Merlin was not a violent person. He tended to avoid it unless it was focussed on him or one of his friends or family, but in this case he would make an exception. If he could just have one good shot at Arthur’s face right now… or Sophia’s.  
  
Despite himself, he headed down to the costume department immediately. There was an almost universal groan as he stepped in the door and he smiled apologetically.  
  
Uther’s personal assistant called him as soon as he had managed to get away from the costume department and complained that Arthur had managed to avoid the meeting with his father that morning as well and Uther wanted to speak to Merlin  _very seriously_. When Merlin finally made it up to Arthur’s rooms again, Sophia was, thankfully, gone, and Merlin was in a worse mood than he had left in.  
  
“You can’t just blow off meetings like that, Arthur,” he said, risking calling his employer by his first name again. There was no reaction from  _Mr Pendragon_ , so he assumed it was alright. “That’s the third time I’ve had to explain to your father that you were unwell, or I forgot to give you the message, or there was an emergency phone call because your budgerigar had died…”  
  
“You told him my  _budgie_  had died?” Arthur asked poking his head out from around the door of the bathroom. His face was half covered in shaving foam and Merlin had a sudden urge to smile at the  _domesticity_ of the scene, if the ghost of Sophia had not been hanging over his head. “He’ll never believe that.”  
  
“He never believes any of it,” Merlin said with a shrug, picking up a book from Arthur’s desk and reading the blurb without really looking at it. “Next time I think I’ll tell him that you’re out battling a cockatrice, or the Questing Beast, and he’ll just nod and glare at me like he always does.”  
  
“What’s a cockatrice?” Arthur asked, his voice muffled as he continued shaving.  
  
“Some monster or other…” Merlin said with a shrug. “That’s not the point though… The problem isn’t my excuses. Please, try and turn up tomorrow. I don’t know if I can take much more of this…”  
  
“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur emerged from the shower room, a towel slung round his neck and a wicked smile on his face. “You know what it’s like… well, you probably don’t, but you can imagine. With Sophia it’s all so… new.” The actor smiled into the middle distance and Merlin wondered when the swelling background music would begin because obviously such  _true love_  would need background music, probably something in the string family.  
  
“I know… but you’ve still got a job to do, and I don’t know if I can keep on doing this,” Merlin said with a sigh, putting the book back down as his phone rang again.  
  
“Was that why you were so out of sorts this morning?” Arthur asked and Merlin resisted the urge to gape at him because, honestly,  _him_ out of sorts this morning? Anyone would have been out of sorts if they had had two hours of sleep the night before, been woken up by angry phone calls and had to live with the knowledge that their crush of going on six years thought they were in love with a malicious, manipulative harpy who twisted everything.  
  
“Probably,” he replied through gritted teeth, reminding himself that Arthur’s infatuations rarely lasted more than a couple of weeks. His relationship with Sophia was doomed to a sudden and tragic end within the week.  
  
“Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
But Arthur’s relationship with Sophia lasted out the week, and then some, and Arthur failed miserably to keep up with his appointments. Merlin would remind him of them and Arthur would be on the phone to Sophia or saying goodbye to Sophia and tell Merlin that  _of course_  he would remember and didn’t he have somewhere else to be. Then Merlin would get a phone call two hours later and it would be Uther or Gaius or Morgana asking him where the hell Arthur was and why had he suddenly forgotten how to do his job?  
  
To say that their relationship was strained was an understatement. It had reached cold war levels by the time filming started in earnest, and everyone on the production team knew, and everyone on the production team was behind Merlin.  
  
“I know it’s not your fault,” Morgana told him as he decided to deliver Arthur’s apology in person for once (well, he had wanted to get away from ‘here, Sophie, try this strawberry dipped in chocolate… whoops, you seem to have melted chocolate on you, how about I clean that up  _with my tongue_ ’?!) “I’ve never seen Arthur this obsessed with anyone before, even me.” She spoke without vanity. It had been true, Arthur had a habit of becoming addicted to people, so that he couldn’t seem to go a day without them. No one who had not met the man, and quite a few people who had, would never have believed he could be so clingy.  
  
“He’s really sorry he can’t make it,” Merlin repeated, “and I’m sure he’ll get back to you as soon as he can.”  
  
“I’m not,” she said with a small huff.  
  
“Look, it’s just, he has so many other things to be doing,” Merlin continued, playing devil’s advocate as best he could.  
  
“Like Sophia…” Morgana asked with a twist of a smile, arching an eyebrow. Merlin kept his face as blank as he could. “It’s okay, Merlin. He’s an idiot and he doesn’t deserve you, you know.”  
  
“I know,” he said, giving her a half grin.   
  
***  
  
Filming started, as it always did and suddenly Arthur was almost himself again. Sophia wasn’t allowed on set – Uther refused to have anyone not directly connected with the film around – and while she was gone and he was on stage Arthur seemed almost himself again, although he was still hungover a good proportion of the time. Off set, however, he was almost exactly the same. He ignored Merlin except to order him around and tell him to get lost.  
  
_Excalibur_  was, in essence a ‘retelling of Arthurian legend in a modern setting’ and Merlin was not wholly convinced by it. Uther had decided that it was time to honour the namesakes of both his son and his production company, Camelot. Arthur, naturally, played the young King, Morgana was his Queen, Guinevere, and a relative unknown, Lance, Morgana’s current beau, was playing Sir Lancelot. The crew and actors had spent a while laughing at that, but despite the hilarity, he was actually quite good at his role. Merlin’s own namesake was being played by a well known older British actor, which had led to further comments from the crew. Excalibur itself was a gun. The general consensus among the crew was that it was appalling and would no doubt be a blockbuster hit.  
  
“Hey,” Gwen slipped over to where he was standing watching one of the many screens dotted around the place. “Taking a breather?” she asked. Merlin nodded, his eyes not leaving the image of Arthur on screen.   
  
“I think I should probably watch some of this, considering I’m going to have to help Arthur and Gaius handle publicity, and field questions,” he said idly. “Not to mention – phones aren’t allowed in here.”  
  
“I know, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Gwen took a deep breath before sitting down in one of the chairs that had been left out behind them. “Sometimes I just want to be alone… not that I mean you should leave. I meant, without my phone and Morgana’s agent calling and everyone else. With the Academy Awards coming up everyone’s yelling at everyone else.”  
  
“It is a bit hectic,” Merlin agreed. Just then Morgana walked onto the screen and he nudged Gwen’s arm slightly.  
  
“They do look good together on camera, don’t they?” she asked, a little wistfully.   
  
“And apart,” Merlin said in agreement. He watched the silent images for a minute before a slow wicked smile spread over his face. “Hey Gwen, want to play film dub?” He shot her a look and she nodded quickly. “I’ll be Arthur, you be Morgana.”  
  
“Why do I always have to be Morgana?” she asked, but more as a joke than a real protest.   
  
“Because if I say something rude as her and you let it slip out, then I’m afraid of waking up one morning with her coming at me with scissors,” he told her. “Okay… ready?” The Arthur on screen began to speak.  
  
“ _I am afraid that our love can never be,_ ” Merlin said, lowering his voice in his best imitation of Arthur, which was appalling. “ _I have to go on a quest._ ” Gwen chuckled beside him and almost didn’t notice as Morgana’s mouth began to move.  
  
“ _A Quest? How terribly exciting, where will you go?_ ”  
  
“ _To the ends of my ego._ ”  
  
“ _That far_?”  
  
“ _Yes, Although I am afraid it may take me many years to reach it, for my ego is terribly large_.”  
  
“ _I know. But what are you searching for?_ ”  
  
“ _A new personality._ ”  
  
“ _Really? Why?_ ”  
  
“ _I’m sure you’ve noticed how big a… prat I am_.” Merlin said, pausing as the Arthur on screen looked away dramatically.  
  
“Merlin!” Gwen hissed at him.  
  
“What?” Merlin asked, “It’s true… come on Gwen, Morgana’s talking.”  
  
“Fine.” She looked back at the screen. “ _But Arthur, how will you ever stop being a prat? You are such a large one_.”  
  
“ _It may be difficult, but if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s me… I am truly the best at everything after all, even if I do say so myself._ ”  
  
“ _You’re the only one who thinks so._ ”  
  
“ _Like I said: I do say so myself._ ”  
  
“CUT!” A voice yelled across the scene and the two actors on stage glared out in irritation.  
  
“What was wrong with that one?” Arthur could be heard to ask, even from the darkened end of the hall that Merlin and Gwen were in.  
  
“The lighting’s off…” the director’s voice rang out. “We’ll have to fiddle around with it for a little longer.” He walked away from the set and began to shout up at someone. “I said I wanted it dark! What part of dark do you not understand?”  
  
“If it gets any darker you won’t be able to see them,” Gwen noted.  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Merlin muttered back. His friend gave him a look of deep sympathy and reached out to pat him on the arm.  
  
“Sophia still?” she asked. Merlin just nodded. He had had the same conversation with Gwen a million times since the Sophia situation had begun and she did not need to hear him bitch about the girl any more. “Does Arthur know you hate her?”  
  
“I think the man on the moon knows I hate her,” Merlin said bitterly. “So no. I imagine Arthur has no idea. He is officially the world’s most oblivious man, after all.”  
  
“I didn’t know there had been a new poll,” Gwen said, trying to lighten the situation. “Does Arthur know he got another award?”  
  
“If he did, I don’t think he would have won,” Merlin commented, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth the clarion call of his employer rang out across the set.  
  
“Merlin?  _Merlin?_ Honestly, where is that idiot? I told him to be ready…”  
  
“I think that’s my cue,” Merlin muttered. “I’ll see you later. If I haven’t been arrested for bludgeoning his brains out with a light stand.”  
  
“Just tell him,” were Gwen’s last words of parting advice. “He might not take it as badly as you think he will.”  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur called out as soon as he caught sight of him. “Coffee… black, two sugars…  _now_  Merlin. I want it before we start filming again. But the way this is going we’ll probably be sitting here until next Christmas.”   
  
He didn’t tell Arthur, not in so many words, anyway. He just decided to make himself scarce when Sophia was around and leave Arthur written reminders rather than coming in to speak to him. It didn’t work as well, but at least there was proof that it wasn’t his fault any more, which meant that Arthur had to take some responsibility. The first time Uther cornered his son and demanded to know what he was up to, Merlin felt a hint of guilt gnaw at his stomach as he stood on the sidelines watching.  
  
“I left five messages with your PA, Arthur, surely one of them must have got to you. You were supposed to be in the studio at six this morning so we could film the night scene…”  
  
“Father, I-” Arthur began, but Uther was not finished.  
  
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is when my own son can’t be bothered to do what is required of him? I have never been more ashamed in my life…”  
  
“Father, I-”  
  
“It was my fault,” Merlin butted in, grimacing internally as soon as the words crossed his lips. He had sworn he would not do it again, but Arthur was standing there looking so crestfallen and pathetic and  _un_ -Arthur that he had to do something. That was his job, wasn’t it: to keep Arthur out of trouble?  
  
“Your fault?” Uther turned to him and Merlin gulped at the sudden redirection of all the rage onto him. He was dimly aware of Arthur’s grateful smile out of the corner of his eye.   
  
“Yes, sir. I got the date wrong…”  
  
“Five times?” Uther asked, and Merlin could see that he did not believe him.  
  
“Yes, I’ve been having a strange week and I’ve been a day behind since Sunday, it’s all been very strange. I could have sworn today was Tuesday, sir, and Arthur keeps reminding me, but it must have all got mixed up somewhere along the line.”  
  
“Is this true?” Uther turned to Arthur slightly and his son nodded quickly.  
  
“Yes, father. Merlin’s been out of it all week, I’ve been yelling at him about it constantly. He’s been completely useless since the weekend.”  
  
“Fine… but don’t let it happen again,” Uther said, capitulating, although Merlin was still not entirely sure that he believed them. “And as for you,” he turned back to Merlin, “make sure you do your job properly in future, and invest in a calendar.”  
  
“Yes sir,” he said.   
  
Suitably appeased, Uther left the room, his smart shoes clacking clumsily on the hard floor.  
  
“That was close,” Arthur said as soon as his father was far enough away. He gave Merlin a cheeky grin and slung an arm around his shoulders. For a moment Merlin froze, his mind warring between relishing the moment and just enjoying standing there with Arthur bloody Pendragon draped over his shoulders, or shrugging off the arm and reminding Arthur that  _yes_  it was close and he had just  _lied_  for him again so the least Arthur could do was be  _grateful_.  
  
But he held his tongue and let Arthur’s arm remain around his neck until they were at the front door of the studio and Arthur pulled away suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest with nonchalance. Merlin shuffled a little uncomfortably for a moment before stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking out of the door.  
  
Despite the almost cease fire, Sophia did not go anywhere and Merlin learnt not to mention her and not to question her presence. Arthur was twitchy whenever she wasn’t present and insufferable whenever she was, until the second Wednesday of February. In a rare break from the set, Arthur grabbed his assistant by the arm and led him out of the building, dragging him over to the car.  
  
“Cancel all my appointments for the afternoon,” Arthur commanded and Merlin opened his mouth to protest, although he was more than a little confused at the situation. There was a part of his brain that still registered cancelling appointments was bad and would get them both into trouble. “There’s something more important to do.” Merlin supposed he should be thankful that Arthur had at least remembered to cancel the appointments this time, rather than just remembering not to show up.  
  
He did as he was told, sending off a stream of messages as he was shoved unceremoniously into the car. He tried to ignore the fact that he was going to have to find somewhere in the next few days to reschedule those meetings and vitally important interviews to, but then Arthur was sitting next to him and  _fidgeting_  in such an un-Arthur-like manner that his attention was directed elsewhere.  
  
“What’s up?” he asked tentatively. The last time Merlin had seen his employer like this it had been just before his messy break up with Morgana and had led to weeks of press frenzy, two of the worst nights of his life trying to convince Arthur that killing, either himself or other people, was not a viable option, and alcohol should only be imbibed in small quantities.  
  
He did not want to go through that again, and if Sophia screwed him over, he was going to make her wish she had never been born… with pliers.  
  
“What do you think of Sophia?” Arthur asked. Merlin gaped at the back of the famous blond head in utter disbelief. Even the driver coughed a little, and Merlin could see his eyes widen in the rear view mirror. Merlin was not the only one who had been subject to Arthur’s whims because of Sophia over the past month and a half.   
  
Merlin was half-tempted to tell the truth, just open his mouth and let the vitriol, jealousy and anger roll out. But Arthur was avoiding looking at him and the fingers of his right hand were tapping out a rhythm on his thigh while his left leg vibrated – a sure sign of some inner turmoil. Now was not the time for the truth.  
  
“I think you like her a lot,” he said diplomatically. He did not want to lie to Arthur, and he could not step over the line and say  _too much_ , he would call Morgana or Uther and ask them to go there for him.  
  
“I know I do, but what do you think?” Arthur turned round to him and suddenly Merlin felt himself held in place by his gaze. He had never seen Arthur that intense outside of the cinema. It was a look he reserved in his films for the moments of greatest emotional weight, and that he was using it now, naturally, made Merlin swallow uncomfortably.  
  
“She’s…”  _a witch, a bitch, a man-eating, gold-digging whore_ … “great,” his voice cracked slightly and he heard the driver cough under his breath, but Merlin couldn’t bring himself to break that look. “But you should be careful,” he added, unable to keep his mouth shut.  
  
“Of what?” Arthur asked. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re like my father and you think she’s just after me for my money!” He flung his head back against the leather head rest, his lips pursed together in anger. “Merlin, I thought I could count on you to support me. Morgana keeps telling me she’s using me, but she’s just jealous, and my father tells me that he doesn’t approve, but I thought you’d understand.”  
  
“Look, Arthur,” Merlin said, wondering how he could put into words everything he thought about Sophia, about how she made Arthur into something that he was not, and how she was manipulating him so easily. “It’s just… how much do you know about her, really?”  
  
“I know I love her,” Arthur said immediately, and Merlin felt disappointment rise in his stomach, heavy and cold. He almost missed the next part as he let the words sink in. Arthur was in love and he had actually said the words, the ones he had always held back on before, even with Morgana. Merlin had joked about it, but Arthur had never said it before and now he had and it was about  _Sophia_  of all people. There were so many thoughts flying through his brain. He wanted to punch Arthur in the face until he saw sense, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to yell for the car to stop, but he just froze. And that was when he heard what came next. “I know I want to marry her.”  
  
“You…” he said weakly, trying to remind himself to breathe. “Marry her?”  
  
“Yes,” Arthur looked round at him again, his face set, but there was something almost vulnerable in his eyes that made Merlin realise that the actor thought he was taking a huge risk by telling Merlin that. He was serious about this, and Merlin knew that look. No matter what Merlin said, Arthur was never going to listen to him. “I know it’s quick, but I’ve never felt like this before…” Merlin nodded dumbly and bit his lip, wondering what god he had upset to make this happen. “And, I want you to help me choose the ring. I wanted to give her Mum’s, but I know my father won’t let me have it if he doesn’t approve of her… so.”  
  
Merlin sagged down into his seat and wondered how seriously hurt he would be if he opened the door and rolled out of the car. They had to be going at forty miles an hour at least, a fall onto hard tarmac, he was in the centre of the road so that increased the likelihood of getting run over by another car. It would be less painful than this conversation though.  
  
“Right… so we’re going to jewellery shops?” he asked, hating himself.  
  
“Yes,” Arthur agreed, smiling faintly. “I didn’t want to ask Morgana, and you’re the closest thing to a girl I know…”  
  
“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, reaching out to push Arthur in irritation.  
  
“You’re good at that kind of thing,” Arthur said with a shrug, “when I was with Morgana you always managed to choose her presents…” Merlin managed to read between the lines, a skill that he was adept at these days, and see what Arthur was really trying to say. ‘I’m scared, I want help and I trust you.” He sighed and knew that he was about to help the man he was sort of desperately ( _hopelessly_ ) in love with buy an engagement ring for a woman he hated, who he was almost positive was the spawn of the devil.  
  
Sometimes he was too nice for his own good.  
  
Merlin was unsure how many jewellery shops there were in the greater London area, but he thought that, in the course of that day, he and Arthur must have visited almost every one of them. No ring was good enough for  _wonderful_  Sophie, no stone was perfect enough or big enough or shiny enough and Merlin was fed up by the time they got to shop three. Actually, Merlin was fed up by the time they left the car. After he had agreed to the shopping trip, he had to put up with Arthur waxing lyrical about Sophia and all her amazing qualities. By the time they got to the third shop, Merlin was ready to declare engagement rings the work of the devil and burn every jewellery shop in the world to the ground.  
  
“What about this one?” he asked for what seemed like the millionth time.  
  
“Too plain… I want her to have something spectacular, like her,” Arthur said and Merlin could see that even the shop assistant (to whom he was going to have to hand a privacy agreement in a minute) thought that Arthur was getting too cheesy there.  
  
“Okay, how about the one with the rubies?” Merlin suggested, pointing to another corner of the display cabinet.  
  
“Perhaps, but don’t you think that looks a little… tacky?” he asked. Merlin did, but that was not the point. The elegant rings were too understated, the elaborate ones were overstated; there was no perfect ring as far as Arthur was concerned.   
  
“I think the sapphire is lovely, sir,” the smiling woman behind the counter said, with an edge to her voice that suggested that if Arthur didn’t choose soon, she was going to shove it down his throat. Merlin thought he would probably help her.  
  
“I’m not sure Sophia’s really a blue person,” he said, sighing again and continuing to gaze down at the rows of rings gleaming up at him.  
  
“Just choose a ring already,” Merlin muttered under his breath, apparently not quietly enough, because Arthur turned to him suddenly.  
  
“Excuse me?” the young man demanded in his most imperious tone. “This is the most important decision of my life and you just want me to rush into it?”  
  
“If you’re that unsure about what she wants, perhaps you should bring  _Sophia_  in to choose it with you,” Merlin said, wincing internally at the acid sarcasm that sank into his voice as he said the accursed name. The sales woman caught onto the idea immediately.  
  
“Yes, sir, perhaps it would be best if you were to bring the young lady to select-” but Arthur ignored her and cut through her words to talk to Merlin.  
  
“What does that mean?” he asked, and Merlin decided that the best technique was to play innocent. Arthur liked to tell him that he was an incompetent moron, maybe if he just played the role then the whole thing would just pass by.  
  
“What does what mean?” he asked dumbly.  
  
“The way you said that… Sophia’s name. What did you mean by that?”  
  
“I just said her name, Arthur. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Merlin said, desperately back-pedalling and praying to whichever deity had got him into the situation, that they would get him out of it.  
  
“Yes you did. I know you, Merlin. You’re an awful liar,” the jewellery shop seemed a long way away now, even though they were still standing in it. His eyes were glued to Arthur and everything else seemed black and white compared to the vivid fury of his gaze. “You don’t like her, do you?”  
  
“I… Arthur, I just don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Merlin said, switching from ignorance to pleading honesty. Neither tactic worked.  
  
“I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, Merlin, so show me some respect.”  
  
“Look, I know it doesn’t matter what I think of her, but…” Arthur cut him off before he could continue.  
  
“You’re right, it  _doesn’t_  matter,” the star snapped.  
  
“I just think, as your friend, I needed to ask you if you were sure,” Merlin commented.  
  
“Well, you’d better think again,” Arthur said, leaning in close, his voice low and hoarse and his eyes practically spitting flames. Merlin tried not to be cowed, but he had never seen Arthur so angry and he wasn’t sure whether he was about to be beaten to a bloody pulp or fired. “You’re not my  _friend_ , Merlin, you’re my employee. So start acting like it.” He turned around abruptly and back to the counter. The shop worker, not needing to preserve face as Merlin did, flinched away as Arthur’s glare caught her.  
  
“Okay then…” Merlin said, his voice quiet, but it echoed around the shop in the dead silence that was flooding it. “Now we have that all sorted out. It’s not in my  _job description_ , sir, to help you make the  _biggest mistake of your life_ , so I’ll be leaving then.”  
  
Arthur did not reply, but Merlin saw his hands tighten on the glass counter until his knuckles were a brilliant white.   
  
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, before fishing a form out of his bag and leaning over to place it on the counter top in Arthur’s eye line, “and don’t forget to make anyone who helps you sign one of these, we don’t want the paparazzi getting their hands on this.”  
  
With that he made a dignified exit, forcing himself not to look back at Arthur, bent over the counter glaring venomously at the rings. Outside the doors, Arthur’s driver looked up as he walked out and headed for the back door of the car, but Merlin waved him away.  
  
“I’ll be making my own way back,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and wishing he had calculated being kidnapped and forced to walk around London in the freezing cold in his choice of coat that morning.   
  
The studio and hotel were on the outskirts of London, a long journey by tube and bus from where Merlin had started, and even longer by taxi given the gridlock that covered the city centre. Arthur had kept them ring shopping for longer than Merlin had imagined and it had been dark for hours by the time he left Arthur. A phone call to a manager or two would make a shop stay open an hour or three past closing for the famous Arthur Pendragon, after all, and Merlin had been  _trying_  to be helpful. He should have just said it all up front at the beginning.  
  
The tube was packed when he made it on, business men who had been working late and people coming back and heading into town. It was the time of day when the city switched from a place of work to a place of leisure and there was traffic going both ways. He had to change three times to get onto the right line and then, when he finally got to the place he needed to get the bus, he had just missed the last one for an hour and the next was half an hour late. It was too late for the regular fifteen minute gaps, so he ended up shivering at a bus stop for an hour and a quarter reading and rereading the posters and the graffiti that covered it.  
  
“Stupid sodding Arthur,” he muttered to himself, feeling a lot like an insane tramp as a group of young women passed him by with a wide berth, shooting him apprehensive looks. “Stupid bloody Sophia. I hope she’s like a black widow spider and eats him.”  
  
He didn’t, but it was not that big a stretch of the imagination.  
  
When he finally rolled into his room, he couldn’t go to sleep. His head was still buzzing with Arthur and Sophia and engagement rings. Arthur had got back before him, he could tell from the  _do not disturb_  sign hung on his employer’s door, and the fact that Arthur had added ‘and that means you, Merlin’ on to the bottom of it.  
  
He sat and stared at the wall for God only knew how long, trying to piece together where he had gone wrong in life. Clearly he should have just stayed in the village and got that job sweeping the floor of the bakery. He would have seen his Mum more often and he would have been able to relegate Arthur into the realm of ‘hot guys I will never meet’ and fantasised about him on Saturday mornings when he had a lie in.  
  
He glared at the wall that stood between his and Arthur’s rooms. Sometimes he fucking hated the self absorbed prat.  
  
He found himself reaching for his phone without even thinking about it, and he scrolled down the phonebook until he found the name he was looking for, the only name he really wanted to talk to at that moment. Well, the only name he wanted to talk to who would pick up. He hit call and listened to the soothing  _brr brr_  as he waited for someone to pick up.  
  
“ _Shit Merlin_ ,” Will said blearily on the other end of the line. “ _It’s two o’clock in the fucking morning._ ” Merlin glanced at his watch. Will was right.  
  
“Sorry, lost track of time, Arthur had me up all night,” he said leaning back and closing his eyes, letting the relaxing sense of familiarity roll over him.  
  
“ _Did he_ really _?_ ” Will asked, apparently not too tired to pick up on unintended innuendo. Merlin almost smirked.  
  
“Not like  _that_ , we were running through his itinerary for next week and it all went on for hours… I can call back tomorrow.” He did not want to call back tomorrow. He just wanted to sit and listen to Will ramble, and then crawl into bed and sleep heavily enough that he could forget everything that had just happened.  
  
“ _Don’t you dare hang up!_ ” Will said quickly, suddenly alert. “ _You know bloody well that if you hang up now you’re not going to have a chance to call me again for a week._ ” Merlin smiled sheepishly into the receiver; that much was true. “ _So, how are the lifestyles of the rich and the famous?_ ”  
  
“Not that fabulous,” he replied with a yawn, and Will laughed.  
  
“ _I could have told you that. How’s his royal highness, Prince of Pratdom?_ ” Merlin paused for a second. He knew what Will would say if he told him what had happened. He would tell him to quit and get a better job and Merlin should. He should get out of there before Arthur destroyed his life, but he  _couldn’t_.  
  
“Less pratlike,” he lied.  
  
“ _Still in love with him then?_ ” Will asked, coming to the heart of the matter more quickly than Merlin could ever bring himself to.  
  
“Will…” Merlin was too tired to have that conversation, was it too much to ask for meaningless banter?  
  
“ _I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Will. I am completely and totally head over heels for the bastard. I sigh over him and watch him while he sleeps and follow his ever step like a good little puppy dog’._ ” All of which was truer than Merlin cared to admit, but it served the purpose of banter, even if it was on a subject which he had rather not think about.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“ _Stockholm syndrome, that’s what it is. You’ve grown addicted to his mistreatment of you, you think it’s normal. It’s tragic._ ”  
  
“You’re tragic.” Merlin shot back, a weak retort, true, but the best his addled brain could think of on the spur of the moment.  
  
“ _And you’re a ginormous poof,_ ” Will said, making Merlin let out a burst of slightly hysterical laughter.  
  
“What does that make you?” he asked incredulously.  
  
“ _Well, I’m a ginormous poof as well, but I’m one of the cool ones… you’re, like, Graham Norton or something…_ ” Merlin screwed up his face. He was nothing like Graham Norton. Hell, Arthur didn’t even know he was gay.   
  
“Then you’d totally be John Barrowman.”  
  
“ _I’d totally_ do  _John Barrowman,_ ” Will replied and Merlin could picture the leer on his face as he spoke and stuck his tongue out in response, even though he knew Will couldn’t see him.  
  
“Really?” Merlin asked incredulously. “I mean, I know he’s attractive, but –“  
  
“ _But?_ But?  _You’re saying_ but  _to_ John Barrowman _? But then I suppose you do get to ogle Arthur bloody Pendragon every day. Not that I understand what you see in the guy. He’s an obnoxious twerp._ ”  
  
“So are you.”  
  
“ _But I’m charming…_ ”  
  
“He’s rich,” Merlin added with a chuckle, not that the money made any difference whatsoever, but it was good to tease Will every now and then.  
  
“ _I could be rich…_ ” Merlin laughed at the indignation in Will’s voice. “ _Well, I could be!_ ”  
  
“He’s Arthur,” Merlin responded eventually, holding back a small sigh because Will would call him a girl in a heartbeat if he heard him do something as stupid as  _sighing_  down the phone at him.  
  
“ _I live in hope of the day you come to your senses,_ ” Will retaliated. There was a long pause and Merlin knew that Will wanted to say something more, but there was nothing but silence. “ _So, other than His Berkliness, what’s going on?_ ”  
  
“There’s a party on Saturday,” Merlin offered.   
  
“ _A Valentine’s day party? Cool… is the guest list a who’s who of the richest people in the country?_ ”  
  
“More like a who’s who of the richest people in the  _world_. Uther’s organising it and you know he likes to go all out on these things.”  
  
“ _I’ll be in London on the Sunday,_ ” Will said suddenly. “ _We could meet up if you want._ ” Merlin hesitated before answering. “ _Don’t tell me Arthur’s going to need you all weekend. He’ll probably be shagging some girl all Sunday… least you can do is have some fun as well.”_ Will was right. No doubt Arthur was planning for a romantic Valentine’s day proposal followed by a day of Sophia. He wouldn’t even be vaguely missed.  
  
“No... that sounds like a good plan. It’ll be great, ” he struggled to sound enthusiastic. He did want to see Will, really, it was just… confusing sometimes.  
  
“ _Damn right it will. We’ll show those rich gits how to party._ ”  
  
“Sounds like fun,” Merlin said again. “My place?”  
  
“ _Around seven?_ ”  
  
“Cool.”  
  
“ _I’ll see you then,_ ” Will said and Merlin could hear him yawning down the phone. “ _Now get some sleep… and Merlin?_ ”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“ _Pendragon’s a prick. Ignore him,_ ” Will muttered before hanging up, leaving Merlin to wonder when he had become so easy to read.  
  
***  
  
Merlin knew what to expect from showbiz parties by now. He knew that it took approximately one hour fifty minutes for the biggest stars to arrive, because they always wanted to make an entrance, but two hours was too late to be polite. He knew that the glitz and glamour wore off after twenty minutes, all the serving staff would have the exact same smile pasted on their face and there would always be one stupid enough to fall for Arthur’s lines. He also knew that they had cushions in their high heels and there was a special row of seats in the kitchen that they took turns in sitting on. He knew that Uther would make a toast and he knew that Arthur would second it, he knew that Lady Cecilia Morton would, unerringly, seek him out and grope at his arse when she had had more than two glasses of champagne, and Morgana would toy with every man in the room until the right man looked her way and then she would zero in with a targeting skill that the army would be proud of.  
  
He knew these parties, and he knew that this one was going to have the highlight of a romantic moonlit proposal on the terrace, he had even timetabled it into Arthur’s night.  
  
His mother laughed when he told her things like that. He had never used to be able to get to his lessons on time, let alone schedule someone’s entire life. Now he found himself making schedules in his head when he wasn’t thinking about it. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be making highlighted wall charts in his sleep.  
  
Gaius was walking towards him, his best fake smile plastered to his face as he wended his way between guests, flattering Mrs So-and-so on her new hair and Mr What’s-his-face on his most recent television role.  
  
“Merlin,” he said, and for once his tone was unforced. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to smile back, though. If that face had been who he thought it was then he was not looking forward to the evening. “What is it?”  
  
“Nothing… just tired,” he answered.   
  
Gaius patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. “Don’t let that stop you from having fun, we all know you haven’t seen too much of that recently.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Merlin said automatically.  
  
“Of course you are,” Gaius agreed readily, but he was giving Merlin a sidelong glance which made him squirm uncomfortably. “Just don’t drink too much. We don’t want you to embarrass yourself, and you’ve never held your alcohol that well.”  
  
“I’m not that bad,” Merlin protested, his eyes seeking out Arthur across the room. It had been one of the most jaw-dropping moments of his life when Merlin had first seen his boss in formal wear. He had thought the man looked good in jeans and a t-shirt, he had thought that the costume department was good at finding flattering things for him to wear, but when Merlin had come to his first formal party, fidgeting and squirming in his own suit, and seen Arthur waiting for him, pulling at his cufflinks idly, his throat had gone dry and he had lost the ability to think for about ten minutes until Arthur had come over and cuffed him round the back of the head.  
  
Even now, after the many times he had been treated to the same sight, he was not immune. It was completely unfair for one person to be so attractive, it had to be, and he knew for a fact that he had not had any cosmetic surgery, no matter what the tabloids might imply.  
  
“You’ll catch flies,” Gaius said, with the sort of smirk that only the older man could give. Merlin blushed furiously and dragged his eyes off Arthur and the way the dark lines of the dinner jacket brought out the fairness of his hair and the blue of his eyes.  
  
Of course, the image was slightly spoiled by Sophia hanging off his arm, her hair done up in some horrifically elaborate tangle of braids and curled tresses. He wondered if Arthur had told her what he had said. He didn’t have to wonder for long, he caught sight of a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned back to them to find her glaring at him with a smug grin before leaning over to pull Arthur into a kiss that should have been illegal in public, one of her hands slipping to the nape of Arthur’s neck, her little finger dipping beneath the white line of his collar while the other slipped into his jacket. As she pulled back she caught Merlin’s eye before smiling at Arthur, and he knew that she was making her point.  
  
He sighed and took a glass of champagne from one of the waitresses as she passed by. He had never been sure whether he liked the taste of the stuff, but taste was the least of his worries at that moment.   
  
“Remember what I said about the alcohol,” Gaius said disapprovingly as he downed half of the glass in one gulp. Merlin nodded distractedly before spotting Gwen standing in a corner looking uncomfortable.  
  
“Right, yes,” he said, “I’m going to go talk to Gwen, see you later.”  
  
Gwen was not the sort of person who enjoyed these events. She usually tried to stay in the background when there was nothing for her to do and smile politely at the people who passed her by. It was made worse by the fact that she had been intending to spend the evening with her fiancé, only to have various commitments come up at the last second. She looked like she needed a drink. Merlin grabbed another flute of champagne before heading her way, handing it to her as he took his customary place at her side, leaning against the wall.  
  
“It’s a good party,” she said, sipping at the drink.   
  
“If you like this kind of thing,” he agreed.  
  
“You don’t?” she asked, a little incredulous, “I do.” Perhaps he had been wrong about that. “It’s just the glamour of it all, beautiful people in beautiful dresses… I always used to dream of things like this when I was little.”  
  
“I used to dream about fighting dragons,” Merlin told her with a shrug, “not much call for beauty there.” She laughed and raised a glass in a toast.  
  
“To living vicariously,” she said with a smirk. He raised his own glass and clinked it lightly against hers before downing the rest of his drink, draining the glass in a manner that was most definitely impolite, if the glare that Arthur was giving him across the room and the slightly scandalised look Gwen had turned on him were anything to go by.   
  
“What? I can’t be thirsty?”  
  
“You don’t like champagne,” she pointed out, which Merlin thought was a bit presumptuous when he was not even sure whether he liked it or not, and it was really starting to grow on him anyway. He shrugged.   
  
“So...” he said, snitching a second glass as another waitress made her rounds and staring out across the room. “Who’s Morgana after tonight?” Gwen shrugged.  
  
“She wouldn’t say… which means it’s going to be something spectacular,” Gwen smiled slightly, “she does like to make a scene.”  
  
“She is an actress,” Merlin said, generously, although sometimes the words prima donna would be a more accurate description.  
  
“She won’t do anything though,” Gwen commented, suddenly. “She and Lancelot are still together. She even managed to get him a part in  _Excalibur_.” Merlin smiled slightly. Whether she had a boyfriend or not, Morgana would still play every man in the room like a fiddle.  
  
True enough, five seconds later and Morgana made her appearance, pausing two steps into the hall under the pretence of looking around, but really giving everyone a chance to take her presence in. She was stunning, even Merlin had to admit, and next to her Sophia, in her gold and green, looked insipid. Morgana was all rich purples, with her hair falling simply down her back, not quite reaching the plunging back of her dress. As she paused, the conversation in the hall lowered for a second before beginning again a little frenzied.  
  
“To making an entrance,” Merlin said, raising his glass again. Gwen chuckled under her breath and toasted and they both grinned as they took another drink, Merlin managing to polish of his second glass in only three gulps. Really, champagne was definitely growing on him.  
  
He didn’t have much more to drink that night, but Gaius had been right when he had commented on Merlin’s poor alcohol tolerance, and champagne apparently went straight to his head, because it was not very long before he began to feel the pleasant buzz of alcohol rising in his mind.  
  
Eventually, the downing of glasses of expensive champagne caught up to him and he was forced to head for the staircase and the bathroom.  
  
He tried to take the stairs two at a time, but stumbled and ended up having to go more slowly. He tried to force his sluggish brain to think. Gaius had been right, he should have restrained himself, but Sophia had been all over Arthur and he had been laughing and smiling and… that was not the point.   
  
He heard a low, off-key voice beginning to sing ‘swing low, sweet chariot’ and grimaced. Apparently Gaius wasn’t keeping his own advice.  
  
He sank down onto the top step and reached up to undo his bow tie, only to realise he had lost it over an hour ago. He sighed and dropped his head into his hands.   
  
“I am so screwed,” he said to himself. The faces from a painting looked down in judgement and he scowled back. What did they think they were looking at anyway? At least his eyes were on different sides of his face.  
  
He sighed and he opened the first door he came to – not a bathroom. It was a linen cupboard. He stared suspiciously at a pile of fresh towels for a moment, before deciding to move on.  
  
Merlin had found, five bedrooms, two more cupboards and a room that seemed to be mainly used for housing cobwebs, and found nothing, when he heard the click-clack of women’s shoes heading up the stairs.  
  
He would never really be able to say why he hid. If asked later, he would say that he knew that it was Sophia before she opened her mouth, or maybe that he was scared that Marjorie was coming to complain at him. To be honest, it was just one of those things you did when you had had too much champagne and had accidentally stumbled into most of the host’s guest bedrooms. He always felt a little like he was trespassing in houses like that, even when he had been invited, and the fact that he was in a part of the house not  _technically_  in use, just made him feel more awkward. So, when he heard the footsteps he jumped for the closest hiding place, which happened to be a shower.  
  
He was lucky it had frosted glass really.  
  
His heart was in his throat, beating manically, as the footsteps came closer and closer. He wanted them to turn back. Why would anyone be up there anyway? There was no reason, the rooms were not in use. The door to the bathroom opened and Merlin remembered why someone would come up – the same reason he had come up in the first place, before he had been distracted by trying to find the place.  
  
He heard the lock on the door slide shut and it was all he could do not to groan in annoyance.  
  
Through the frosted glass he could just make out a darker patch which must be the woman, and he leant as far back into the corner of the shower as he could. Luckily the shower was tiled with dark blue, so the black of his suit wouldn’t have been as noticeable from the outside.   
  
The woman did not head for the toilet, however, which he was quite grateful about, because that would have been supremely awkward. She went over to the sink and stood there for a good thirty seconds.  
  
Merlin had never understood why women (and Arthur) needed to spend so long in front of a mirror. He just checked that his hair wasn’t sticking up and that he didn’t have toothpaste on his cheek before walking out the door. Oh, he understood make-up might take a little while, but surely if you came to a party, then you already had make-up on, and no one would notice if it rubbed off a bit when they were as drunk as the people downstairs.   
  
He was supposed to understand that though, wasn’t he? Gay men were supposed to get things like that. He remembered Morgana commenting with disappointment on his lack of understanding of women several times, but he just couldn’t work it out. That was sort of why he was gay, perhaps. But his drunken musing about his sexuality was broken into by a very familiar voice.  
  
“Look, I’ve got him exactly where I want him, two days and I’ll have the story,” Sophia said, and Merlin realised that she had not been adjusting her make-up, she had been dialling a number into her phone. Either that or she was talking to her own reflection, which would have been weird. “I know, I know… but this is going to be brilliant. I’ll get the promotion for sure. Entertainment editor here I come.”  
  
Merlin stood in stunned silence, barely able to breathe. This was not good. If there were ever a record for the quickest sobering up, then Merlin was fairly certain he would have won it then.   
  
“Arthur’s completely in love with me. I can get him to tell me  _anything_. I think he might even propose,” Sophia continued, unaware of his presence. “I  _am_  good, aren’t I?” She laughed a little, and Merlin had to restrain himself from tearing out of the shower cubicle and strangling her right there and then. “I’ll have your exclusive, believe me. It’s going to be brilliant. Look, I’ve got to go now, or he’ll start looking for me. I told him I had to fix my hair.” She laughed again, and Merlin ground his teeth. Arthur was  _in love_  with her, and Arthur might not be the nicest, or the most intelligent person in the world, or the most observant, but he did not deserve this. “You’re too kind. See you Wednesday.” The phone call ended and she went back to, or maybe started, looking in the mirror, humming to herself while Merlin stood, his head and his stomach churning, waiting for her to leave.   
  
He could confront her there and then. He could force her to reveal her hand, but then she would have the advantage, the ball would be in her court and if he gave her time to prepare, Arthur was never going to believe him.  
  
Arthur, who was planning to propose – tonight. Merlin’s eyes widened in horror. He could not let that happen. He had to stop it. He fumbled to open the shower door, missing the handle three times in his anxiety.  
  
Before he left the room, he threw up, anger mixing with alcohol to make him feel dangerously ill.   
  
He ran through the door and down the stairs, only taking long enough to ensure he did not trip and kill himself. He felt a little ashamed as he headed back towards the party because, in amidst the terror and the anger there was a small part of him which was smug. He had known there was something off about Sophia, he had known that she was bad for Arthur and he had been right. Arthur would never disbelieve him again.   
  
He paused at the door for a second, as the voice in his head that sounded like Will brought him back to reality. What was he really expecting to happen out there? The scales to fall from Arthur’s eyes and for him to re-evaluate himself and his sexuality, realise that Merlin had always been the one for him and proceed to declare his undying love? Was he expecting Arthur to be so pleased to be told that  _the woman he loved_  was an evil manipulative bitch that he offered Merlin a bonus and a promotion?  
  
All that was going to happen was that Merlin would tell him, Arthur would get angry, and the world would continue as it had before. Arthur might believe him, but he probably wouldn’t. Sophia would publish her article and the press would have a feeding frenzy, Arthur would be heartbroken, but in time Sophia would fade away and it would just be the pair of them again: Arthur blundering into ridiculous messes and Merlin finding a way to clear them up. Arthur giving orders, Merlin following. That was all it would ever be.  
  
He sighed, one hand on the door handle, and smiled ruefully to himself. He had never thought of himself as a maudlin drunk, but there he was.   
  
None of that mattered though, because none of it would change what he had to do. He was going to go out there and tell Arthur, because that was what he did.  
  
He opened the door and pushed his way into the room. Most of the guests were hammered, Uther was chatting up some waitress less than half his age, and Gwen was listening to Gaius tell some long, boring story by the hors d’oeuvres. He scoured the room, the glint and sparkle of dresses and glasses distracting his eyes, making it more difficult to find what he was looking for.   
  
Frantically, he pushed his way between people, looking around desperately for Arthur and…  
  
He caught sight of them just as they were disappearing from the hall through the glass doors into the gardens, which were lit up with strings of fairy lights. His heart sank, this was it: the moonlit romantic garden setting, the ring which Arthur had agonised over and the scheming slut who had engineered everything. He elbowed his way past people that it was really best not to elbow, and headed as swiftly as he could for the door.  
  
Once outside, he peered into the gloom, even with the fairy lights, his vision had to compensate for the sudden change from dark to light and all he could see below the level of the tree branches was pitch black.  
  
“Arthur?” he called as vague figures began to appear.   
  
“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was hinting at him to go away; the underlying edge of irritation that he had had in all their conversations in the past few days brought to the top. Merlin winced a little at the sound of his voice.   
  
“Arthur,” he said, suddenly stumbling over his words again, “we have to… I have to talk to you.”  
  
“ _Now_?” Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin could see him clearly now and he noted the meaningful nod to Arthur’s side where Sophia was standing, looking vapidly puzzled. She was a good actress, Merlin would give her that; she should be a film star.  
  
“Yes…” he said, trying to carry the import of his words with the tone of his voice and his stare. He even managed to get his eyebrows involved, jerking them as far up his forehead as he could get them. “It’s important.”  
  
“Merlin… I’m sort of in the middle of something here.”  
  
“I know… but I need to talk to you  _urgently_.  _Now_.” Merlin repeated, and finally Arthur gave a huge sigh.  
  
“Fine, what is it?” the star said.  
  
“Alone,” Merlin added, giving Sophia the fakest smile he could work on. Her own placid grin was beginning to look a little forced.  
  
“Merlin, I’m sure you can say anything you need to say in front of Sophia,” Arthur told him, wrapping an arm round the slut’s shoulders.  
  
“No… I really can’t,” he said, walking up to them and reaching out to take Arthur’s elbow, pulling him firmly away. “Please, just a few moments, it’ll only take a few seconds and then you can get back to...”  _ruining your life_ , he thought, but he kept his opinions to himself.  
  
“Okay,” Arthur said, leaning in to kiss Sophia and mutter an apology in his ear.  
  
“It’s alright,” she said, “I know you’ve got other things to deal with apart from me.” Merlin almost choked at that. The amount Arthur had been disregarding the rest of his life for Sophia must just be giant joke to her.  
  
He led the actor away, checking over his shoulder to make sure Sophia was not following them.  
  
“This had better be good, Merlin,” Arthur told him, crossing his arms and glaring imperiously at his assistant. “Don’t tell me it’s just some other excuse for you to tell me how wrong Sophia is for me. I get it, you don’t like her, can’t we just leave it at that.”  
  
“No,” Merlin said, “wait… I need to say all of this in the right order.”  
  
“Then say it…” Arthur prompted. They lapsed into silence for a moment as Merlin agonised internally.  
  
“She’s a reporter,” he said in a sudden, fast, splurge, tripping over the words as they came out of his mouth until they ran into each other. “Sophia’s a reporter and she’s not in love with you, she just wants to get a story. I heard her on the phone and she’s stringing you along.”  
  
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Arthur said, shaking his head and turning away, back to Sophia.   
  
“No! Arthur, wait!” Merlin called, grabbing Arthur as he began to walk away. “It’s true, I swear to you. She’s playing you, and you’ve fallen for it and if you propose tonight then you’re going to regret it.”  
  
Suddenly Arthur was right in his face, his eyes so livid Merlin gulped nervously.  
  
“You’re pathetic, you know, Merlin. Just because I have more in my life than your stupid schedules. I  _love_  her, and I’m going to marry her, no matter what you say. I’ll forgive you these lies, seeing as you’re  _obviously_  drunk, but why don’t you take a couple of days off to think about things and I’ll see you on Tuesday so we can decide whether this is working out any more.”  
  
“Working out?” Merlin asked, his mouth falling open in shock.  
  
“Yes. You’ve been working for me for a long time now; it might be time for a change,” Arthur told him before turning on his heel and walking away to return to Sophia.  
  
Merlin drew in a shaky breath and resisted the urge to curse loudly. He had expected it to go badly, he had expected Arthur not to believe him, but he had not expected to get  _fired_ practically.  
  
“Oh, sodding hell,” he murmured to himself. “I hate bloody Valentine’s day.”  
  
***

He woke up the next morning… well more like mid afternoon, in his flat with very little idea of how he got home other than falling into a cab and ordering the driver to go towards the ‘second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning’. Apparently he had decided at some point in the evening that he lived in Never, Never Land, although he was positive that people in Never, Never Land never got headaches as horrible as the one currently pounding through his head, nor did they have mouths that felt as though they had spent the night chewing on dirty socks.  
  
He was halfway to the door, hangover or no hangover, when he realised that he had nowhere to be. He had the day off, sort of. He was at a loose end, and he sat down suddenly on his expensive leather sofa (which he had only bought because Arthur had insisted that his interior designer do Merlin’s place as well and the sofa was the only thing the man had managed to convince him to buy before Merlin had thrown the pretentious pillock bodily out of the door) and stared at the wall opposite him.  
  
His flat looked like a showroom. It was all blank white walls and strategically placed items of furniture with a couple of ‘interesting’ things he had brought back from their travels abroad sitting on the mantelpiece. There were no pictures, no books, nothing other than the bare essentials and a giant mirror on the living room wall that had come with the place.  
  
He had spent a grand total of seven days in the place since he started renting it. He spent most of his life flitting from one place to another with Arthur, and almost all his holidays at home with his mother. He almost forgot the place existed most of the time. But he had considered it vitally important that he have his own place, when he had got enough money for it, so he rented out a flat (better than he had ever hoped he would be able to) just off the student centre of London, and he never lived there. But it was his.  
  
There was a bowl of nuts on the table that he remembered putting out when he had got the place.  
  
Now he thought about it, he didn’t have any nutcrackers.  
  
There was a distinct, familiar buzzing from the pocket of the trousers he had left lying on the floor the night before – the only sign of life in the void that was his supposed home.   
  
He half walked, half crawled to the trousers and spent a good half a minute shaking them in different directions until his phone flew out of the pocket and rocketed under the sofa. It then took another minute for him, with his arm stuck completely under the sofa, his hand groping around determinedly and his tongue stuck out between his teeth before he managed to get a grip on it.  
  
Thirteen messages.  
  
Three were from Gwen, four Morgana – and when had she got his number? – two were from Gaius, all of which asked him if he had got home alright the night before. He quickly answered in the affirmative so that they would stop worrying about him and looked down at the last four, from Will.  
  
Will… there was something about Will that he should have remembered. He sat, in a crumpled heap at the foot of his sofa for a second, thinking as hard as he could, trying to ignore the several regiments of mounted cavalry which were on parade inside his skull. Will was… coming over. He swore, loudly and lengthily at the walls of his flat and the stuffed goat he had found under the sofa, which Gwen ad given him to keep him company when she had found out he had moved in somewhere new.  
  
The one good thing about living in a flat you did not actually live in was that there was very little tidying to do. Once he had bundled up his clothes from the night before into a bag he labelled ‘dry cleaning’, had a shower and changed into a t-shirt and jeans he had not remembered that he owned, he was good to go.  
  
Of course, tidying would have given him something to do.  
  
As it was, he ended up switching the television on and staring blankly at repeats of comedy panel shows for the afternoon on one of those digital channels that no one ever really wanted, but ended up watching anyway.  
  
The cupboards were bare, so he ended up ordering takeaway, and he gave them his mobile number when they asked for it because for the life of him he had no idea what his landline was.  
  
When the buzzer sounded from the front door at half six, he was ravenous and he managed to devour a Chinese meal for two by himself in about twenty minutes and then realised that he probably had not eaten since Saturday lunch time. With some food in him he felt a lot more human and maybe even alive by the time the next buzz came.  
  
“Hey Merlin,” Will’s voice crackled through the intercom.  
  
“Come on up,” Merlin told him, buzzing him through.  
  
He was waiting at the door when Will appeared up the staircase.  
  
“I am having a crap weekend,” he said as soon as his friend walked through the door.  
  
“But it all got better now, didn’t it,” Will said, holding up a pack of beer.  
  
“No alcohol,” Merlin said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think I could stand it now. Never again, I swear, never again.”  
  
“You said that when we finished secondary school,” Will pointed out, “and when you got your job,” Merlin glared at him, “and when I got accepted into college, and again when your Mum got promoted, and again when…”  
  
“Shut up, Will,” he said flatly.  
  
“Fine, I take it the party last night was awful?” Merlin did not answer, he stalked up to Will, pushed him roughly against the wall and kissed him as roughly as he could.  
  
When he pulled away, Will was blinking slightly.  
  
“That bad, really?” he muttered. “I guess I should take your mind off it then.”  
  
“That would be a good idea,” Merlin told him. Will pulled him back as urgently as Merlin had pushed him a second before. His hands pushed up under Merlin’s t-shirt and tugged it off. Attached together they stumbled towards the bedroom, but didn’t quite make it to the door before Merlin tripped, pulling Will down on top of him and they decided to take what they could get.  
  
***  
  
At some point in the night they made it from the floor of the living room to the bedroom, via the sofa and several doors.   
  
Merlin woke, for the second time running, to his unfamiliar apartment, but unlike the morning before, he was also woken up by the scent of food.  
  
His stomach rumbled noisily as he pushed himself over onto his back and pulled himself up. He heard chuckling from the doorway and blinked blearily over at Will, fully dressed, who had a plate of toast in one hand, and a piece of toast in his mouth.  
  
“You look…” his friend said with another laugh. “Your hair’s all sticking up.” Merlin brought one hand up to comb through it, trying to pull it down. “Breakfast in bed?” Will asked as Merlin was suffering his self-conscious moment.  
  
“Sounds good… where did it come from?” he asked. Will walked over to hand him the plate and shrugged before sitting on the end of the bed.  
  
“I woke up an hour or so ago and I guessed that you might want a little more sleep. I searched the cupboards, but all I found to eat was a mouldy half an orange in the fridge, so I popped down to the shop on the corner and bought some bread, butter, teabags and some milk. Then I found your toaster and made toast… of course if you’re asking in a more general sense, I’d imagine that fields of corn or wheat were involved and other places… and probably a cow or three for the butter.”  
  
“There’s a shop on the corner?” Merlin asked stupidly, staring at the toast in his hand, drowning in butter.  
  
“Yes,” Will said, smirking a little.   
  
“I have a toaster?”  
  
“I was surprised too,” his friend said with a shrug, “but not as surprised as I was when it managed to make a pile of toast without blowing up. You really need a new one. That one’s so old it’s got to be a health and safety issue.”  
  
“Right…” Merlin muttered again, taking a bite of toast. Will laughed and stole another piece from the plate before standing up again and heading for the door.   
  
“It’s okay, if I use the shower, isn’t it?” he asked. Merlin nodded, making an affirmative grunt around his mouthful of toast. Will disappeared before Merlin thought of something and he called him back quickly. “What?”  
  
“There isn’t soap,” he said, apologetically. Will just laughed.  
  
“If there wasn’t any food, I wasn’t holding out hope for anything else.” He disappeared again and Merlin stuck his tongue out at the empty door.  
  
Will finished off his shower quickly and Merlin took his turn, ducking in. He was just coming out when he heard the doorbell go and he hurried out, towel fixed firmly round his waist to see who could be looking for him. It was probably Jehovah’s Witnesses.  
  
Will was heading for the door when Merlin emerged, and he took a moment to smirk at him lewdly before continuing.   
  
“I’ll get it,” he said.  
  
“Tell whoever it is to go away,” Merlin said. He did not feel in the mood to entertain visitors of any persuasion. He heard Will open the door, and then there was silence. Confused, he walked over to peer around the corner at whoever it was. What he saw froze him in place.  
  
At the door, with a look of confusion gracing his features, stood Arthur Pendragon. In front of him, wearing only boxer shorts, Will was standing stock still, one hand clenched around the door handle as though debating whether to slam it closed.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Arthur stammered, “I was looking for someone else. I’ll just…”  
  
“Arthur?” Merlin said, coming out from round the corner, completely forgetting that the only thing he had on was a towel. The film star’s eyes flashed to him immediately and he flushed a brilliant red. Merlin had never seen Arthur blush before. It was really quite endearing, or it would have been had Merlin not been exceedingly mad at the man.  
  
“He’s busy,” Will said in a hard voice, moving to close the door. Without even bothering to say anything, Arthur ignored him and pushed into the apartment, leaving Will glaring at his back. He stared at Merlin and Merlin stared back, suddenly aware that he was very cold and mostly naked, and really quite wet. A drop of water dripped from his hair onto his back and he shivered as it ran slowly in a cold line down his spine.  
  
Arthur looked as though he was about to say something: his mouth opening and shutting again and again. His utter inability to say anything was another first in Merlin’s knowledge of him,and he stored away the moment for future reference. If he had known walking around wet and mostly naked would shut the man up, he would have done it years ago.  
  
“Look,” Merlin said after a few more moments of awkward silence. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll be back in a minute.” He turned to head for the bedroom, but paused in the doorway to turn back. “Just don’t kill each other, okay?”  
  
As soon as he was in his room he closed the door and leant back against it heavily. It took him a moment of complete blind panic before he remembered that he was there to do something and he should really get back out before Will decided that Arthur would look better without a head, or something.  
  
He searched the drawers and cupboards for a set of clothes that didn’t smell of sex and Will and eventually found some lurking at the back of a drawer. Then, as soon as he looked a little less… unprepared, he headed back out, into the lion’s den.  
  
Will and Arthur were not talking, but they weren’t killing each other either, so that was a bonus. They seemed to be involved in a terribly important staring contest that Merlin was reluctant to break, but, standing at the end of the sofa, he cleared his throat as loudly as he dared.  
  
“Right,” Will said, standing up and crossing over to him, he leaned over to kiss Merlin hard on the mouth, “I’ll just go and get ready, shall I?” He disappeared into the bedroom with one last long glare over his shoulder at Arthur, and then Merlin and Arthur were left alone. Merlin shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He had really hoped that if Arthur ever found out he was gay it would be because he had told him, in some unassuming and tactful way, or maybe because he had figured it out. Being discovered mostly naked with his on again, off again, sometime friend, sometime lover, sometime fuck buddy, had really not been on his top ten list.  
  
“You’re gay,” Arthur said, with dawning comprehension, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.  
  
“Going on five years now… or twenty two, if you believe that it’s genetic, which I’m not sure about personally, but I’ve been out about five years,” Merlin was unsure whether he was being flippant or not, all he really understood was that his mouth was open and noise was coming out.  
  
“You weren’t  _out_  to me,” Arthur said, and Merlin wondered why, after having turned up uninvited on Merlin’s doorstep, after having threatened his job the last time they had seen each other and having told Merlin not so long ago that they were not friends, Arthur had the ability to be offended by Merlin not detailing his sexuality.  
  
“Is that an issue?” he asked, trying to maintain the moral high ground, but he could feel it slipping away as he began to realise that Arthur was right there, sitting on his over priced sofa and not looking angry at all, just confused and a little tired.  
  
“No… I mean, of course it’s not. I’m not some kind of fascist, it’s just… you didn’t  _tell_  me.” Merlin shrugged.  
  
“It didn’t come up,” he argued back.  
  
“Yes it did,” Arthur said, his voice rising. “The number of times I’ve asked you about girls or girlfriends, or whether you’ve been on a date or whether you were asexual, you never once said ‘Oh, by the way, I like men.’ That’s evasion at best and, at worst, lying.” Arthur shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later.”  
  
“I still have a job then?” Merlin asked.  
  
“Of course you do, haven’t you seen it?” Arthur asked, and Merlin realised, as Arthur stared at him, that he was missing something huge. “You must have seen it, everyone’s seen it. Or were you too busy with… that guy.”  
  
“I’m Will,” Merlin’s friend said, re-emerging from the bedroom, fully dressed. Arthur waved him off as though his name was of little consequence.   
  
“What should I have seen, Arthur?” Merlin asked, taking a step forward, to stand in between the pair of them. Arthur did not answer, just reached out and snagged the remote, turning on the television.  
  
He switched over to a news channel and suddenly his own face was splayed across the screen.  
  
“I’ve always felt…” Arthur’s voice flooded the room until he hit the mute button angrily. Merlin took in a shuddering breath.  
  
“Sophia,” he said. He did not need to look round to know that Arthur was nodding tightly. “Bollocks. How bad?”  
  
“I told her… I told her  _everything_ ,” Arthur admitted. Will gave a small chuckle and both of the others turned to glare at him.  
  
“What? It’s schadenfreude, I can’t help it,” he protested, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Merlin let out an exasperated sigh before turning back to Arthur. He had to prioritise. The shit had hit the fan and the world would now be gunning for Arthur with both barrels. He sat down next to Arthur and watched the video footage, obviously taken with some sort of hidden camera.  
  
“Okay, first things first,” he said “have you called your lawyers?”  
  
“My father did,” Arthur said, “they’re suing for use of my image without my consent and a hundred other things I can’t remember. It’s the only thing my father’s said to me since it was aired.” Merlin groaned.  
  
“What did she get about him?” he asked, really not wanting to know the answer, except he had to, because no doubt Gaius was going to be on at him for the next week or so about the publicity and limiting the fall out and he would have to know what was going on. “I’m going to have to see the full thing, you know.” Arthur nodded, but refused to look at him.  
  
“Who’s Sophia, anyway?” Will asked. He had idly picked up a handful of nuts and was moving them around in his hand. Arthur did not answer.  
  
“A reporter,” Merlin said, trying to keep to the point, a little ashamed that only yesterday night he had been planning this moment as a glorious I told you so. “Arthur’s ex-girlfriend.”  
  
“How ex?” Will continued, pressing the subject despite Merlin’s glaring. He had either forgotten how to understand the silent instruction to  _shut the hell up now_  or was deliberately ignoring it. Merlin was going for the latter. On his other side, Arthur checked his watch.  
  
“Three hours, twenty minutes,” Arthur told him, his voice hard and clinical. Merlin took another deep breath. Three hours ago he should have been on the phone with Gaius making up a plan. He was behind and he needed to catch up fast. Arthur was subdued and unemotional, that was a bad sign. This was exactly the same way he had been before he had decided to go into therapy, blank and controlled until he took out all his anger in some tremendous act of rage.  
  
“You need to go off radar for a while,” he said. “I need to phone Gaius, and Will… don’t you have work today?”  
  
“Got the day off.”  
  
“Nice for some,” Arthur murmured, and Merlin just headed for his phone, hoping that while he was out of the room, one of them wouldn’t explode.  
  
Gaius was not impressed, apparently ‘I was given the day off’ was not a good enough excuse for missing the biggest story of the last three days. The ‘Arthur Pendragon Confessional’ as it was being dubbed by the newspapers, the Internet (the  _Internet_ , Merlin moaned down the phone) was everywhere. Reporters were queuing up outside the studio, they were crammed onto the pavement outside the hotel, some were even found inside the hotel by the security guards and escorted out.  
  
It was a circus, and he was about to be thrown into the middle of it.  
  
“ _He’ll have to make a statement_ ,” Gaius said, “ _but I can’t see it making much difference. The video will be off the air soon enough, his lawyers will make sure of that, but the Internet coverage means it’ll never go away, and people are just intelligent enough to understand that what he says when he thinks no one is listening is probably more truthful than anyone’s seen him before. Have you seen it?_ ”  
  
“Not yet, but he says it’s bad.”  
  
“It could be worse,” Gaius told him and Merlin let out a breath he had not known he was holding. “most of what he said is public knowledge, or at least will gain him sympathy. He might have a few strained conversations with Uther and Morgana for a while, and there are some interesting things about you and me.”  
  
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Merlin muttered, reminding himself to store away that information for a time when Arthur was being particularly unreasonable.   
  
“But, to be honest, there are worse people it could happen to. If there were to be a secretly filmed video of Uther, for instance, or several other people, whose names I will not mention, then we’d be fielding lawsuits for slander all over the place. I’m more worried about him.”  
  
“He’s… distant,” Merlin managed, searching for the right word.  
  
“I should think so,” Gais paused for a moment on the other end of the line. “He’s never trusted easily. Sophia’s betrayal is going to cause more lasting problems, I fear.”  
  
“I know… look, when’s the press conference arranged for, because I think after that he should take a week off at an undisclosed location.”  
  
“That would probably be best,” Gaius agreed. “I’ve arranged it for two o’clock at the hotel conference room. I’ll prepare a statement for him to read, something about being appalled at the breach of trust and saddened that anyone should feel the need to go to such lengths to try and get him to incriminate himself. Make sure he looks suitably shaken up. We’re going to have to pull at people’s heart strings.”  
  
“Shouldn’t be an issue,” Merlin assured him before saying his good byes and hanging up. Before heading back into the living room he straightened his shoulders and put on his best smile.  
  
“So,” the word was out of his mouth before he was even fully out of the door. “It’s arranged… press conference at two,” he checked his watch, “and we’d better get a move on if we want to make it on time, then we remove you to an undisclosed location and we wait for the furore to go down and for some starlet or untalented celebrity to make a fool of themselves and then you quietly return to work. Sound good?”  
  
Arthur nodded, a grateful smile on his face and he stood up, offering Merlin his hand. There was an awkward moment where they shook hands, watched by a slightly confused Will, and Merlin understood that Arthur was, in his own Arthurian way, trying to say ‘sorry, I should have believed you. Thank you very much.’ While Merlin tried to convey that it was nothing and he shouldn’t worry about it.  
  
“How did you get here?” he asked.  
  
“Car,” Arthur said. “It’s waiting downstairs.”  
  
“Right, we’ll use that to get to the hotel. Will,” He turned to his friend and gritted his teeth, knowing that his next words were going to be unwelcome. “Can you follow behind us, at a safe distance, you know where we’re going, right?”  
  
“Yeah, but what do you want me to do?”  
  
“I’ll tell you later, just go there and park in the car park round the back, it’s for staff but you should be fine if you say you’re with the production company,” he moved towards the door, scooping up his keys and wallet from the table by the wall as he walked. “Now… are you ready for this?” Arthur snorted in amusement.  
  
“Have you ever known me not to be ready?” he asked.  
  
“Then let’s go and meet your adoring public.”  
  
The press were already camped out at the entrance to Merlin’s apartment building, as he knew they would be. He had Will go out before them and walk to his car, the paparazzi ignored him completely, as Merlin knew they would. Half a minute later, Merlin and Arthur walked out together, Arthur repeating the words ‘no comment’ over and over until they had no meaning and the pair of them ducked into the back of his car and shut the door in the reporter’s faces.  
  
The drive was uneventful. They both knew that the press were following them, and Merlin lost track of Will’s car before they were around three blocks, but he knew that he would make it. If there was one person who had always come through for him, it was Will, even if he was now asking him to come through for Arthur.  
  
“So, I hear you said some interesting things about me,” he said, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. Apparently it had not been the right thing to say, as Arthur turned away from him to stare out of the window at the passing cars. “Sorry… it’s just I can’t imagine that anything you had to say about me would have been interesting enough to make the final cut. It wasn’t about my ears, was it? Because you know I’m sensitive about them,” he joked. Arthur turned to him and opened his mouth before smiling, seemingly in spite of himself.  
  
“It wasn’t about your ears.”  
  
“Then it must have been about my incompetence,” Merlin said with a shrug, “which isn’t anything I haven’t heard before.”  
  
“Well, you are dreadful at your job…” Arthur said, his voice a pale imitation of his usual arrogant drawl.  
  
“I know, I know… how you suffer, having to put up with me.”  
  
“How I suffer,” Arthur agreed. There was another long pause. “You could have told me, you know.”  
  
“That I was incompetent?” Merlin asked in confusion.  
  
“That you were gay.”  
  
“Oh, that.” In all the excitement, Merlin had almost forgotten about that little development. He shot a look at the driver in the rear view mirror and received a wink for his trouble. Apparently Arthur had been the only one who did not know.   
  
“It’s not like I would have fired you for it,” Arthur continued, “I might even have been able to set you up with someone… not that you need it, obviously, with…”  
  
“Will,” Merlin provided.  
  
“Precisely,” Arthur agreed.  
  
“I know,” Merlin said quietly, after a moment had passed. “It’s not like I really hid it, everyone else guessed.”  
  
“Everyone?”  
  
“Well, Gaius knows, Gwen knows, of course, Morgana knows…”  
  
“Morgana?” Arthur turned round, his eyebrows almost at the top of his forehead.  
  
“Mmhm,” Merlin agreed with a small smile. “She guessed.”  
  
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Arthur asked in wonder.  
  
“Maybe she didn’t think it was any of your business,” Merlin said with a shrug, “or maybe she thought you knew.”  
  
“I still can’t believe that I didn’t work it out,” Arthur commented, “I mean, I always thought I was quite good at spotting that sort of thing.” Merlin was unable to stop a laugh from spilling out of his mouth and from the hurried cough the driver gave, he was having a similar problem. “Oh, come on, I’m not that stupid.”  
  
“You’re not stupid, Arthur,” Merlin assured him. “You’re just a little… blind sometimes.” Arthur fell quiet again and his assistant realised what other things that comment could be applied to and he sighed deeply.  
  
“You weren’t to know,” he said.  
  
“That you were gay?” Arthur asked, although Merlin knew that his employer knew perfectly well what he was talking about.  
  
“That Sophia was using you,” Merlin said gently. Arthur turned to him with a rueful smile, running a hand through his hair.  
  
“Except for the fact you told me,” he pointed out. “And I should have known anyway. It was so obvious, the way we met, purely by accident. How she wanted to know  _everything_ about my life, how she kept trying to get me to do things that I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have fallen for her act like that. I know better.”  
  
“She was very convincing,” Merlin argued.  
  
“She didn’t convince you.” There was nothing Merlin could say to that, and they lapsed into silence once more.  
  
***  
  
The statement Gaius had prepared was simple and to the point. Arthur was upset at the violation of his privacy, the underhand ways in which the reporter had worked appalled him, and he felt saddened that he was not allowed to have any part of his life outside the realm of the cameras. Much of what he said had been taken out of context. As he was preparing and Gaius brought in a make up artist to add to the overwrought, heartbroken look that they were aiming for, Merlin slipped out the back to the staff car park.  
  
“What am I doing here?” Will asked as soon as Merlin made it over to his car.  
  
“You’re doing a favour for an old friend,” he replied. “Please Will, all I need you to do is wait out here a few minutes and then drive home, dropping me off at my place. Is that okay?”  
  
“An undisclosed location, huh?” his friend asked with a raised eyebrow. Merlin shrugged helplessly.  
  
“I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to plan, and no one knows your car or where I live. It’s perfect.”  
  
“And if they find out where it is?”  
  
“Then we’re buggered,” Merlin told him, with a shrug. “A few days are all we need though, then everything can go back to normal.”  
  
“And your work life and your personal life will never meet again,” Will said with a smirk. “You owe me big time for this, Merlin.”  
  
“I know…”  
  
“And I don’t mean a blow job, either. I mean  _big time_. Life and death, big time.”  
  
“I know… now, I’ve got to go, before someone realises the freak with the big ears is missing and tries to hunt me down. Keep the car ready.”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
Merlin paid a quick visit to Arthur’s driver on the way back, giving him instructions to leave shortly after the press conference had finished and drive around for a while as though heading somewhere important, keeping the press occupied for as long as possible. The man gave a grin and nodded. Merlin had the idea that he had lived his whole life waiting for some subterfuge like that to be necessary. He made a mental note to get in one day and say ‘follow that cab’ just for the hell of it, to see what happened.  
  
Arthur was halfway through his prepared statement when Merlin slipped back into the room, moving to stand next to Gaius in the corner.  
  
“Arrangements have been made,” he said under his breath, receiving an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
There was a clamour of noise and the customary click hiss of cameras as the flash bulbs went off again and again. Arthur managed it all as he usually did, with far more composure and presence of mind than anyone had the right to. He walked immediately over to where Merlin and Gaius stood and the three of them walked out, Arthur donning his sunglasses as he did.   
  
As soon as they were outside of the room and the security guards were blocking the path of the press, Merlin grabbed a hoodie from a pile on a table and passed it to Arthur. He stripped out of his expensive leather jacket and pulled it on, running a hand through his hair to muss it up and drag it out of his forehead before putting the hood up. Gaius tossed the jacket to a young security guard on the other side of the room, who even Merlin had to agree looked a little like Arthur. He was already wearing similar sunglasses, if a bit cheaper.   
  
Arthur headed towards the main car park, but Merlin grabbed his arm and pulled him to the staff entrance as Gaius handed him a bag.  
  
“I had Gwen pack you some things,” he explained and Arthur blinked at him in surprise, as though he had not been expecting such an occurrence. “Now, go, before they get the idea to look in the staff car park.”  
  
The pair of them hurried out of the back entrance, Merlin looking both ways every few minutes to check whether he could see a lens. He did not want another disaster like the Arthur-Morgana one.  
  
There was nobody. Arthur had made it clear enough over the years that he enjoyed press attention to a certain extent and he was not going to run away from it, so there was no expectation that he would try and trick his way out of the situation. Merlin half pushed him into the back of Will’s car before sliding in after him.   
  
He pulled away immediately, not saying anything, and Merlin allowed himself time to breathe while Arthur thumped his head against the support, making certain to look away from the window.  
  
The journey back to Merlin’s home was a three hour trip on a good day. Typically, the traffic chose that day to slow down and in the end, after two long traffic jams, a diversion that led to Merlin attempting to navigate himself round a combination of A and B roads he had never known existed, and a game of I-spy that was cut short by Arthur asking what the bloody point was, it reached about five.  
  
Merlin had forgotten his ‘long journeys with Arthur’ survival pack, which included a bottle of something fizzy – but not alcoholic – a crossword book, an ordinary book and his iPod, and he was beginning to remember why he had brought that survival pack into existence in the first place.  
  
Arthur was hungry, but he refused to let them stop in case someone spotted him. He demanded to know where they were going, but both Merlin and Will refused to tell him, out of sheer irritation. It was like travelling with a four year old. Any second now, Merlin was willing to bet that he would start asking if they were there yet.  
  
“So, when are we going to get there… wherever there is?” he asked eventually, and Merlin heard a derisive chuckle from Will in front of them.  
  
“Soon,” Merlin said, hoping that he was right and that every road into the village had not been shut up because of road works.  
  
“It had better be,” he grumbled, thudding his head down onto the window.  
  
“You could at least be a little grateful,” Will said suddenly, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer.  
  
“Will, it’s fine,” Merlin said, looking between the pair of them. Arthur’s mouth was compressing into a thin, hard line and Will’s hands were tightening on the wheel.  
  
“No, it’s not,” he said, “I’ve said this a million times, Merlin, you know I have.”  
  
“Could we do this later?” Merlin asked, trying to catch Will’s gaze in the mirror for a second to indicate that he did not want to talk about it in front of Arthur.  
  
“No, because you’ll just ignore me and run off. At least now you’re a captive audience.”  
  
“Will.”  
  
“He needs to hear this,” Will continued, and Merlin was aware of Arthur moving next to him, sitting up straighter.  
  
“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur said, cutting into their conversation. “Let him talk.”  
  
“I really don’t think…” the middle-man said, but he was cut off by Will.  
  
“You’re the most self-satisfied, arrogant prick I’ve ever met, you know that?” Will said, dragging the car up a gear to a nasty sounding screech. Merlin opened his mouth in an abortive attempt to interrupt, but Will continued, louder than before. “So some girl took a video of you, big deal! At least it wasn’t a sex tape, or anything. Then Merlin’s trying to help you, like he always does, and you just can’t keep your big mouth shut. You’re a fucking idiot, you know that. You’re just such a fucking idiot.”  
  
“Finished?” Arthur asked after a moment of silence.  
  
“No!” Will yelled.  
  
“Keep your eyes on the road, Will,” Merlin muttered.  
  
“I’m watching the road, Merlin. I know how to drive,” Will shouted back, before turning on Arthur again. “Do you ever say thank you?” he asked, “do you ever even think that maybe other people have lives too, that don’t revolve around you? I bet you never even considered that Merlin might have an existence outside of you, did you?”  
  
“If Merlin doesn’t choose to tell me about his life, then that’s his own prerogative,” Arthur said. His voice was quiet, compared to Will’s, and he managed to sound reasonable. “I’m not going to poke around in my friend’s lives just because I feel like.  _I_  respect people’s privacy.”  
  
“Of course you do, that’s why Merlin can never have a day off without you calling him or texting him or needing him to rescue you from some asinine caper or other,” Will said, his voice full of sarcasm.  
  
“Will, come on, we’re almost there… couldn’t you just yell at me about this later?” Merlin said, trying to placate his friend.  
  
“I don’t want to yell at you,” Will said, “he’s the one who needs someone to yell at him. Your work is taking over your life and he doesn’t even notice it.”  
  
“Merlin can take time off if he wants to take time off…” Arthur said. “I can’t help it if he chooses not to.”   
  
As the ‘Welcome to Ealdor, please drive considerately’ sign flashed by, Merlin did not think he had ever been more grateful to be home. The tension in the car was stifling and he was pretty sure that, if the journey had gone on any longer, Will would have lost control and driven them into a ditch or something.  
  
“Where are we, anyway?” Arthur asked, beside him, clearly addressing his question to Merlin and not Will.  
  
“Home,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind, it was the only place I could think of that no one would think to look.”  
  
“Your home?” Arthur asked incredulously, looking at him over the top of his sunglasses. He looked more like himself than he had that day and Merlin smiled in spite of himself, and the huff he could hear from Will. “I thought we were there this morning.” Will let out another mocking laugh.  
  
“That place?” he asked, “Merlin’s barely spent two hours there, which you would know if you paid any attention to him at all.”  
  
“My mother’s, where I grew up,” Merlin provided. “It’s not what you’re used to, but…”  
  
“It’ll be fine. I’ll take anywhere with a bed and a shower,” Arthur told him with a sigh. “Your mother doesn’t mind?”  
  
“I haven’t told her yet, so I guess we’ll find out,” Merlin told him with a small grin. Arthur looked more than a little apprehensive. “Don’t worry about it. She’s never turned anyone away in as long as I can remember, not even Great Aunt Mabel, and no one ever wants her to stay.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“She’s the harbinger of doom,” Merlin confided in a stage whisper, Arthur laughed, “no, really. If Great Aunt Mabel comes to see you, then trouble will follow. Two of my cousins split up with their husbands within two weeks of her visiting them.”  
  
“Of course, there are those that think that Mabel’s the one who causes the trouble, not just a sign of it,” Will commented from the driver’s seat, almost sounding civil. He pulled them up to the kerb outside Merlin’s house and turned in his seat to face them. “I’ll be round tomorrow. Call me if you need anything. And remember, it’s okay to chuck the prat out if he gets to be too much.”  
  
“Thanks Will, I owe you one.”  
  
“I know, we already discussed that. I expect to be repaid in full,” Arthur fished in a pocket for his wallet and Will shook his head. “Not like that, pretty boy.”  
  
“See you tomorrow,” Merlin agreed, opening the car door and levering himself out of the back seat, automatically grabbing Arthur’s bag as he went.   
  
By the time he had pulled Arthur out of the car and up the path, the hood of his jumper still firmly pulled up, his mother had flung open the door and they were bathed in electric light.  
  
“Merlin!” Hunith cried, coming out of the house in bare feet to hug her son.  
  
“Mum! Mum,” Merlin gasped, “need to breathe, really…” She pulled back and gave him an unimpressed look. “Anyone would think I’d been dead or something.”   
  
“You might have been, for all I knew,” she commented. “If Will hadn’t told me that he’d heard from you on Wednesday I wouldn’t have known if you were okay or dead in a ditch somewhere. What happened to ‘I’ll phone every week, Mum’?” Merlin shrugged helplessly, but aid came from an unexpected corner.  
  
“That might be my fault, Mrs Emrys,” Arthur said stepping forward into the light. Merlin grinned as he watched his mother stare in utter astonishment at the visitor, her mouth opening silently as she recognised the voice. “I’ve been keeping him fairly busy recently. I’ll make sure I remind him to phone you from now on though.”  
  
“Call me Hunith… Come in,” She ushered the pair of them in hurriedly. “You must be frozen… In. Both of you, and I’ll make a cup of tea. You do drink tea, don’t you?” she asked Arthur in concern as he walked past her.   
  
“Yes, thank you,” he told her with a smile. Merlin shut the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief.  
  
“Did Will not want to come in?” she asked curiously.  
  
“He’s busy,” Merlin said evasively. “He said he’d be round tomorrow though.”  
  
“Good… now, come in, sit down. Was it a good journey?” Arthur seemed a little overwhelmed, so Merlin took it on himself to reply.  
  
“Terrible,” he explained, “we would have been here two hours ago, except there are road works from here to the M25.”  
  
She nodded and walked off to make a cup of tea, leaving Merlin and Arthur sitting in the front room, in front of the gas fire. The actor looked a little shell shocked and Merlin couldn’t help but smile.  
  
“Sorry, I think she’s a little surprised you’re here, that’s all. She’ll probably tell me off later for not warning her that you were coming. She’ll have to make up the guest bed and everything.”  
  
“Arthur!” Hunith’s voice called from the kitchen, “do you take milk and sugar?”  
  
“Uh… just a little milk, please,” he called back uncertainly. Merlin was almost positive he had not had to tell anyone how he liked his tea for three years, since Merlin had started working for him. That was, after all, Merlin’s job.  
  
“Right… semi-skimmed okay?”  
  
“Fine, thanks…” Arthur said again, looking completely out of place. Merlin could not help but stare at him for a moment. Not only did Arthur look on edge, perched on the end of the sofa, but there was a part of Merlin’s brain that was rebelling against seeing him there. The two parts of Merlin’s life were colliding, and Arthur was completely out of place in his living room, discussing his tea preferences with his mother.  
  
“So, your Mum knows about you and Will, then?” Arthur asked, which seemed the least important question possible at that moment in time, but Merlin answered anyway.  
  
“Yeah… not that I told her.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, “she just seemed to know one day.”  
  
“Will doesn’t like me much, does he?” Arthur said, switching the conversation more quickly than Merlin had really been expecting.  
  
“He… doesn’t really know you,” Merlin countered, trying to be reassuring. Arthur didn’t reply; he didn’t get a chance as Merlin’s mother walked back in and sat down with them.  
  
“Tea’s in the pot,” she said, “now, Merlin… given that I wasn’t expecting you back before my birthday, why don’t you explain what you’re doing here?”   
  
“Mum, there was an… incident, and Arthur and I need somewhere to stay for a little while until things calm down. I know you might be busy, but I was hoping that maybe we could stay here?”  
  
“Of course,” she said, looking over at Arthur a little apprehensively, “as long as you don’t mind, Arthur.”  
  
“It’ll be fine,” he said, giving her his most charming smile. “I don’t mean to impose, but Merlin said it would be alright.”  
  
“It’s fine… I haven’t made the guest bedroom up, and I apologise for the mess,” she gestured at the light clutter that dusted the surfaces. Arthur smirked.  
  
“If you think this is bad, you should see Merlin’s room,” he told her.  
  
“I did, for eighteen years,” she replied, “I spent most of them telling him to tidy it up, but it never really took, now every time he comes home I end up picking up clothes and books and papers from the floor when he leaves again, and he hoards mugs.” Merlin watched as the pair of them discussed his shocking lack of hygiene, adding in an affronted comment or two when the occasion called for it. He did not live in squalor or filth, after all, just a healthy amount of mess.   
  
Arthur was relaxing more every second: he was no longer perched on the edge of his seat, but leaning right back, one leg propped up on the other and his arms splayed along the back of the sofa, taking up as much room as he could.  
  
“He never has been able to keep his mouth shut,” Hunith commented and Merlin drifted back into the conversation, realising it had taken a turn for the worse.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Arthur said with an easy laugh, “he once asked my father…”  
  
“That’s enough!” he said, cutting into the conversation quickly. He had a very good idea where that was going, and if his mother got any idea of some of the things he had accidentally said to very important people’s faces, then he would no doubt be in her bad books for the rest of his natural life. Arthur was smirking at him, and he gave him a hard glare, but it had no effect. They never had. Arthur was completely immune to his glares, and his yelling and everything really, but then so was everyone else.   
  
“I’ll go pour the tea out,” his mother said, standing up and walking out of the room with a secretive smile on her face.   
  
“It’s very different here,” Arthur said, looking around the walls, which were full of family pictures and pieces of art that Merlin had brought back from abroad.   
  
“I know it’s nothing like your home,” Merlin agreed, feeling a bit defensive. “But it’s not that bad. It’s nice around here. Everyone knows each other, even if Mrs Wilkins down the street knows a little too much. There aren’t any big shops or anything, and the school’s tiny… there were only thirteen people in my year at one point, but it’s quiet.”  
  
“It’s just the two of you?” Arthur asked and Merlin nodded.  
  
“My father left before I was born. Mum doesn’t talk about him… so it’s always been just me and her… and Will.”  
  
“Sounds nice.”  
  
“It would have driven you mad,” Merlin replied with a smile, “the nearest cinema is an hour’s bus ride away, the nearest bar is about the same. There are four pubs, but mostly all you get there are old men talking about the football, and in the summer there’s a huge cricket match on the green and everyone watches.”  
  
“You hate cricket,” Arthur commented.  
  
“It’s not exactly  _proper_  cricket,” Merlin corrected, “it tends to get quite… dirty. Once Mr Partridge was bowling to maim and kill… I kid you not. He fractured one shin, gave two people concussion and hit Rory, down the road, in the balls.” Arthur grimaced in sympathy, flinching slightly. “It’s not a game, it’s a battle, and no one’s ever really sure who wins. It’s sort of like an England-Germany football match, only with a harder ball, and less sportsmanship.” Arthur laughed.  
  
“I can’t see you playing, somehow,” the blond man commented, “you throw like a girl.”  
  
“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, and proceeded to show that he could throw pretty damn well, by bombarding Arthur with everything he could find, from a rolled up pair of socks and a pen, to a cushion, all of which were thrown back again with far more accuracy.  
  
“Merlin!” his mother said sharply as she came back in, “what have I told you about throwing things in the living room?  _And_  at guests.”  
  
“Sorry Mum,” he muttered, leaning out to take his tea as Arthur did the same, they shared a small sheepish smile.  
  
“Would you prefer sheep or plain red?” Hunith asked Arthur out of the blue, and the visitor sat staring at her for a minute in bemusement. “Sheets.”  
  
“I really don’t mind,” he said with a shrug, shooting a look at Merlin to ask what was going on.   
  
“Okay, and do you like sausage and chips?” she asked again, “I didn’t know you were coming, and the only thing I could find that would be enough for three was the packet of sausages, but I can go down to the butchers if you’d prefer something else. Frank doesn’t close up for another half an hour…”  
  
“Sausage and chips is fine,” Arthur assured her.  
  
Merlin found that he had to keep reminding himself that he was still awake during dinner, watching Arthur pour vinegar onto oven chips and then grab the tomato ketchup as soon as Merlin put it down. It was like being in some surreal film, except it was his dining room. Arthur drank orange juice out of a plastic cup, because all the good glasses were in the loft.  
  
Although, he did not offer to do the washing up, which was just as well really, because Merlin knew that he had never done that before in his life. There had always been maids, housekeepers and personal assistants to do things like that for him. It was the one thing that made Merlin absolutely certain that this was happening.  
  
His mother went upstairs to sort out the guest bedroom, which had not been used since the last time Uncle Howard decided to come and stay and had since been filled up with boxes and piles of books and unwanted birthday presents. Arthur sat on the worktop and watched intently as Merlin set to work on the dishes. He tried to ignore the gaze, but it was difficult while Arthur was sitting just at the edge of his line of sight trying to bore a hole in him with his eyes.  
  
“What is it?” he asked eventually. Arthur shrugged. “You’ve been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes. Do I have soap on my nose?”  
  
“No,” Arthur slid off the worktop and walked over to him, until he was standing so close that Merlin could reach out and touch him. “It’s just… you’re different here.”  
  
“I’m still just Merlin,” he replied with as casual a shrug as he could manage. He risked a glance up at Arthur and saw that the man was not looking at his face, but somewhere round about his shoulder.  
  
“I know… but you seem more you here,” Arthur commented. He looked up again and they found themselves staring at each other, their gazes locked together. “It’s odd…”  
  
“Well, that’s me,” Merlin joked feebly. His hands were still submerged in the water as they continued to stare at each other and he could feel the bits that he had accidentally splashed out of the sink soaking into his t-shirt. They seemed worlds away from Saturday night, with Arthur, just as close as he was now, telling him that maybe it was time he leave, and even further away from the Wednesday before and their argument in the jewellery shop.   
  
They were in Merlin’s world now, his house, his mother, and Arthur was suddenly involved in his whole life, but it did not seem intrusive. His presence, half a foot away, did not seem intrusive, and that in itself was more than a little worrying. The idea of work had faded away somewhere along the line, probably in the car with Arthur and Will trying to one up each other in some twisted contest that Merlin still did not entirely understand from either end. It had seemed, at points like they were arguing over him, but that could not be right: Arthur was straight, Will knew Arthur was straight. It made no sense.  
  
He realised, with a jolt, that he was still staring at Arthur, and Arthur was still staring back, a small frown on his face as though he was trying to puzzle something out.   
  
“It’s probably just stress,” Arthur said, turning away to stalk back across the kitchen. Merlin let out his breath in a long stream and sagged against the counter, experiencing a release of tension he had not known he was feeling. “My mind’s everywhere at the moment. It’s just Sophia…” the film star ground to a halt, glaring down at his hands. “Is it the job, or is it just me?” he asked rhetorically. “All my relationships screw themselves up.”  
  
“Sophia was a special case,” Merlin told him, turning back to the dishes with renewed impetus. “And Morgana’s too much like you anyway. No relationship would have been big enough to house both your egos.”  
  
“Was that an insult?” Arthur asked carefully and Merlin smiled to himself while he rinsed off a pan.   
  
“Not an insult if it’s true,” he pointed out with a smirk. Arthur raised an eyebrow in mock offence and walked towards the sink again, slowly.   
  
“Are you saying I have an ego problem?” he asked slowly. Merlin shrugged.  
  
“All I’m saying, sir, is that you don’t exactly have a low opinion of yourself,” he replied, just this side of insulting.  
  
“Right…” Arthur said, glaring at him. “You finished?” Merlin looked down to find that the worktop was empty and nodded, dumbly. “So… going to give me the tour?”  
  
“It won’t take very long,” Merlin said, “you’ve seen most of the downstairs already. The toilet’s under the stairs.”  
  
“Right… so onwards and upwards,” Arthur indicated the door as Merlin dried off his hands and the pair of them headed out and up the stairs. Hunith was making the bed in the spare room when they reached the landing and she gave them a smile. “I take it that’s where I’ll be sleeping,” Arthur said and mother and son nodded. “And the bathroom is…”  
  
Merlin pointed to a door on their right.  
  
“The shower takes a bit of getting used to,” he explained, moving forward to open the door and point around the cramped room. There was enough space for a sink, a toilet and the shower cubicle and that was it. The side of the bath was surrounded by bottles and various things. “It always comes on either boiling hot or freezing cold, and you have to leave it for a few seconds before it’s suitable for human use. And if you turn it on the wrong way it’ll switch itself off after a minute and a half, well, actually a minute and twenty three seconds – I counted once, so turn it anticlockwise then clockwise.”  
  
“Anti-clockwise then clockwise, right,” Arthur muttered, raising one eyebrow in disbelief. Merlin wondered if he had ever lived anywhere with slightly dodgy plumbing before, or somewhere the boiler came on with a cacophony of rumbles and clanks that sounded like some kind of war machine. “Anything I should know about the sink or the toilet?”  
  
“Those are taps,” Merlin said, pointing to the sink, “You turn the top and water comes out of the silver spout part, one’s hot, one’s cold, and that’s a toilet… you press the button to flush it.”  
  
“That would be a no, then,” the guest commented, and his tone of voice was as close as Arthur ever got to sticking out his tongue at someone. Merlin grinned at the change in him from that morning. It was like talking to the real Arthur again, something he had not done since before the whole Sophia thing. They left the bathroom and Arthur moved onto the next door, “and this room is…” he pulled the handle and opened it, “a cupboard.”  
  
“Yes, that’s the boiler in there, it’ll probably wake you up around six thirty, but try to ignore it.” Hunith put in. “I’ll leave you boys to it then and go watch some television.”  
  
As she walked downstairs, Arthur poked his head into the guest room, taking in the bed and the desk in the corner.  
  
“I get a computer?” he asked.  
  
“You get the computer,” Merlin corrected.  
  
“You only have one computer?”   
  
“It’s fine!”  
  
“It’s prehistoric,” Arthur said, looking at the huge monitor and the tower, which had a tendency to chunter. “It doesn’t even have front access USB ports.”  
  
“It works perfectly fine, and it’s got a modem…” Merlin said, walking over to pat it lightly in an attempt to soothe its feelings.   
  
“It’s only a computer, Merlin,” Arthur told him. Merlin gave him a scandalised look.  
  
“It’s not only a computer…” he said, as though the very idea were dreadful. “It’s got a personality.”  
  
“I thought when computers started having personalities, we were supposed to start worrying,” Arthur commented, sitting on the end of the bed, unable to suppress a small frown at the feel of the mattress. Merlin tried to ignore him.   
  
“You’ve been paying too much attention to the scripts you’ve been given. That film you were in two years ago was just a story, Arthur. Robots aren’t really hunting you down to try and kill you.”  
  
“I’m not the one who thinks his computer has a personality,” the actor retorted, staring at the star chart that was stuck on one of the walls. “Who’s the astronomer?”  
  
“Mum,” Merlin said, “she did astrophysics or something at university, she’s a teacher at the local primary school.”  
  
“Oh,” Arthur paused for a moment, “So, where’s your room?” Merlin opened his mouth to speak when he realised just what Arthur was asking.  
  
“Oh… you don’t need to see that,” he said hurriedly. “It’s just a room: bed, wardrobe, desk, that sort of thing, nothing special.”  
  
“Come on, Merlin… you know everything there is to know about my life: show me.”  
  
“It’s my job to know everything about your life,” Merlin argued, “it’s my job to  _organise_  your life, I have to know it all.”  
  
“Which, if you think about it,” Arthur said, turning to him with a wicked grin, “isn’t fair at all.”  
  
“I think it is,” Merlin said.  
  
“Well, I don’t,” Arthur told him, swinging himself to his feet, “and as your boss, I feel that what I say goes.”  
  
“You gave me the day off,” Merlin said as Arthur headed for the next door.   
  
“Yes, well, I’m taking that back.”  
  
“You can’t take that back, it’s illegal to do that without giving me fair warning… I’ll contact my union.”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur turned to look back at him over his shoulder and Merlin felt his heart sink. This was it, the end of his life. He might have survived the Sophia crisis, but this was the end of it all. Arthur knew he was gay and once he saw Merlin’s room he would know that Merlin was in love with him and then that would be that, he’d phone up someone and run back to his real life and Merlin would be left trying to find a job at the bakery on the high street and wondering why he hadn’t gone to University like his Mum had wanted him to. Arthur’s hand was on his door handle. “Is this it?” Merlin nodded with a heartfelt wince and closed his eyes as Arthur opened the door and went in.  
  
He knew that the first thing that would hit Arthur’s eyes as he walked in through the door was his own face staring back at him from the far wall, and not because of a mirror. A good fifty percent of the wall space in Merlin’s room was taken up with posters, and ninety per cent of the posters were of the same person, the person who was currently looking at them.  
  
It was his mother’s fault, he reasoned. Any normal mother would have cleared the room out after their son left home officially, but no, she had kept it like it had been for years, since Merlin was sixteen, in fact, and he had begun his slight obsession with Arthur. He had never got around to taking them down himself, it had never been the right time, and, to be honest, it was a little calming to have it all there like that. He was so used to the posters that blank walls would no doubt be jarring.  
  
“Merlin?” Arthur called and Merlin walked to the doorway of his room slowly, waiting for the storm to begin. Arthur might be fine with having a gay PA, but having a gay PA who was in love with him would probably be stretching his acceptance a little far. “Your mother wasn’t kidding, was she?” Merlin blinked and stared at where Arthur stood, in the middle of his room, surrounded by pictures of his own face, looking with distaste at a pair of jeans that were crumpled in a heap in the middle of his floor.  
  
“Uh… no,” he said slowly, wondering whether Arthur had suddenly gone blind, or whether his intense narcissism had made the almost-shrine to him seem like something normal.  
  
“Why do you even bother with a wardrobe?” Arthur asked, “and bookshelves… they’re for putting books on.”  
  
“I know,” Merlin managed to say as Arthur knelt down to pick up a small pile of books and leafed through them with vague interest. He smiled in relief. He wasn’t being fired.  
  
“Looking around here, I wouldn’t think so,” the other man said with amusement. “How on earth do you manage my life when you can’t even tidy a room?” Merlin shrugged helplessly.  
  
“I have no idea.” Arthur was looking around again and Merlin held his breath, even though he knew that he must have already noticed the posters. But, given that it was Arthur, the facts might take a few moments to filter through his brain.  
  
“You have the limited edition poster from  _The Moment of Truth_ ,” he said in astonishment, going up to look at the offending picture more closely. “They only made two hundred of these.”  
  
“I know,” Merlin said, knowing that he was blushing furiously, hoping that Arthur wouldn’t ask where he got it, because there were some eBay purchases in the room that he definitely would not have made had he known he would end up in a job where he got the merchandise for free and the real thing for as much of his time as he could offer.  
  
“Cool,” was all Arthur said, though and then he turned round, at a loose end again, although Merlin suspected that he could spend several hours just staring at the oversized images of his own face.  
  
***  
  
When Merlin got up the next morning, his mother was getting ready for work, and she smiled at him as he shuffled into the kitchen looking for breakfast.  
  
“Sleep well?” she asked, sipping at her morning coffee.   
  
“Like a log,” he replied.  
  
“Any sign of Arthur?” she asked. He raised one eyebrow while he searched the cupboards for something that looked like cereal.  
  
“Not yet,” he answered. “But he’ll be down before too long. He can never stay in bed in the mornings. I don’t get it personally.” He shrugged and grabbed a bowl.   
  
“I wouldn’t have expected him to come back with you,” she commented. Merlin busied himself with getting his breakfast ready, avoiding her eyes.   
  
“He didn’t know where we were going,” Merlin admitted, “he just needed somewhere people wouldn’t know to look. Luckily he’s not needed for filming this week.” He pulled himself up onto the worktop and began to eat. “It’s just somewhere to stay.”  
  
“Which is why he insisted on being given the tour, and keeps asking you questions…” she said gently.  
  
“He’s nosy,” Merlin replied around a mouthful of muesli. “Doesn’t mean anything.” His mother smiled, the same vaguely secretive smile she had been using before.  
  
“And he doesn’t like Will?” she asked.  
  
“Mum!” he exclaimed. “It was more that Will doesn’t like him, which you already knew anyway… Arthur was just reacting to Will being an idiot.”  
  
“Merlin...” she said mildly, drinking the last of her coffee. “I don’t think it’s just that.”  
  
“He’s Arthur,” Merlin said with a shrug, “who knows why he does anything?” She stood up, picking up a scarf from over the back of her chair and draping it over her neck. “It was just pointed out to him yesterday that he doesn’t know me as well as he thought he did and he’s trying to prove Will wrong.” She smiled.  
  
“If you say so,” she said, walking over to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll see you tonight, okay. Don’t burn the house down while I’m out… and try to keep the wild parties quiet. Mrs Partridge might be going deaf, but that’s only when it suits her.”  
  
“All Wild Parties will be held silently… and all fires will be restricted to the garden,” he agreed with a quirk of a smile. “Have a good day.”   
  
“You too,” she replied before walking back out into the hall to get her coat and Merlin settled back to his breakfast. As he was finishing off the bowl, he heard footsteps on the stairs and his mother, on her way out of the door, greet their houseguest politely.  
  
Arthur walked into the kitchen looking far too awake for someone who had only just got up. He paused in the doorway to look at Merlin swinging his legs against the cupboards and shook his head.  
  
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.  
  
“Muesli,” Merlin said and the newcomer made a face. “Although I’m sure I could find some bacon and eggs somewhere around here.”  
  
“Sounds good,” Arthur agreed. “I got a call from Morgana,” he said after a pause. Merlin continued grabbing bacon and eggs from the fridge, trying to act as though nothing were wrong.  
  
“What did she have to say?” he asked, finding the pan cupboard and rifling through it for a frying pan he knew was there somewhere. Of course, it had to be at the bottom of the pile. He could feel Arthur watching him as he knelt down to empty the cupboard. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and he really wanted to turn around, but he refused to.  
  
“That I was a prat and she wasn’t talking to me,” Arthur said, “and that if she ever saw Sophia again she would cut her into tiny pieces and feed her to a dog.”  
  
“So, you two are okay, then,” Merlin said, his head and shoulders in the cupboard. He hoped that Arthur could hear him properly, despite the muffling.  
  
“I think so… except the prat part, but that’s normal,” he added. “She wanted to know where I was, as well.”  
  
“Did you tell her?” Merlin asked, finally pulling himself free, the frying pan clenched in his hand and a triumphant grin on his face. “Ha!” he exclaimed with a glare at it.  
  
“No…” Arthur replied, smirking as Merlin proceeded to try and pile the pans back again, only to find that they no longer fit.   
  
“So, fried or scrambled?” he asked. Arthur leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, his smirk growing into a wicked smile.  
  
“Poached.”  
  
“Git.”  
  
  
***

It was generally decided, after his third attempt, that Merlin was crap at poaching eggs. Arthur was in hysterics of laughter after the first had ended up half down the outside of the pan, the second turned into something more like watery scrambled egg and the third looked more like a pancake egg. Luckily, the bacon was fine, and Arthur agreed that he could make do with fried eggs.  
  
As Arthur was finishing off his slightly caramelised breakfast, Merlin’s phone rang and he made the mistake of picking it up.  
  
As soon as he heard who was on the other end, he took it into the hall, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
“Mr Pendragon,” he said politely, when Uther paused for breath. “I’m sure you understand that Arthur’s not feeling up to a public appearance at the moment…” he was cut off as Uther tried to demand to speak to his son, and requested their location several times in progressively less polite terms. “Please, Gaius feels that it would be better for everyone concerned if Arthur were out of the spotlight for a while.” He broke off again, moving to sit down on the bottom step of the stairs. “It was my idea, Mr Pendragon, and I take full responsibility for it.”  
  
“Right, Mr Pendragon, I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”  
  
“Mmhm.”  
  
“I don’t think she was just  _some girl_ to Arthur, sir.”  
  
“Yes, I know.”  
  
“Right… okay then. Friday at the latest… I’ll make sure he’s there.”  
  
“Yes… my job that’s on the line, right. Thank you, Mr Pendragon. I’ll have him back by Friday. Good bye Mr Pendragon.”  
  
As Merlin hung up the phone he took in a deep breath and heard a sigh that was not his own from somewhere behind him. Through the banisters he could see Arthur leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, which he had not heard open.  
  
“This might have been your idea, Merlin, but I’m the one who went along with it, and Gaius agreed,” Merlin nodded warily. “Anyway, you work for me, not him. I’m the only person who can fire you.”  
  
“Oh yes,” Merlin said with a smile, “wasn’t there a certain conversation we were supposed to be having on Tuesday?”  
  
Arthur blinked and frowned slightly, looking uncomfortable.  
  
“I thought we already dealt with that Merlin. I’m not going to fire you, for all you’re a pain in the arse and you can’t cook a poached egg to save your life, which can’t really be  _that_  difficult,” he took a deep breath. “I was… confused on Saturday night…” they both looked at each other, through the lines of the banisters. “I didn’t do it, you know,”  
  
“Didn’t do what?” Merlin asked. Arthur looked away, staring out of the kitchen window at the garden, which was a little overgrown.   
  
“Ask her to marry me…” Arthur answered.   
  
“Good to know you listen to me sometimes,” Merlin answered, unsure of what exactly he was being told.   
  
“I never listen to you,” Arthur retorted, “I just realised that I hadn’t known her that long and I didn’t really know anything about her, so I didn’t do it.”  
  
“Which you clearly thought about because I spoke to you,” Merlin said, a little smugly.  
  
“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” Arthur told him, walking down to stand opposite him, so there were no barriers between them. “I wouldn’t have done it anyway. If anything, you talking to me made me  _more_  likely to ask her, not less. You just irritated me.” Merlin grinned as Arthur glared at him defensively. “It’s true. I came to the decision by myself.”  
  
“Yes, Arthur.” The blond reached forward to shove him on the shoulder. Merlin’s grin did not even falter. “So, what have we learnt about pretty girls who bat their eyelashes at you?”  
  
“Use them for sex,” Arthur replied promptly. Merlin let the conversation fade for a second, wondering how to put the next part. He took a deep breath, but before he could talk, Arthur answered his question for him. “You want to see the recording don’t you?” his personal assistant shrugged.   
  
“I’ll be more use if I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” he said.  
  
“Fine… I imagine you can find it on Youtube by now.”  
  
“Haven’t your lawyers managed to stop it yet?” he asked curiously.  
  
“Apparently Sophia’s claiming that I gave her permission,” Merlin gaped, “which is nonsense, of course: I never sign anything unless I’ve read it through carefully before hand, and I would know if I’d signed anything like that. But she’s claiming that I did, so it doesn’t really matter whether I did or didn’t at the moment, because the possibility means that we can’t suppress it.” He sighed. “This is going to go on forever, isn’t it?”  
  
“Not forever…” Merlin answered. Arthur walked over and sank down next to him on the stairs. Their thighs and upper arms were brushing against each other and Merlin took a moment to remind himself to breathe. He had been in more intimate positions with Arthur before. But alone in his own house, just lightly touching, the moment seemed different somehow. He was torn between wanting to move his thigh just that little bit to the side, so that they were pressed up against each other and wanting to run away.   
  
Discretion being the better part of valour, he stood and ran, muttering as he went that he was going to go check out Youtube.  
  
There were a million people who would kill to be him right now, to have Arthur Pendragon sitting in their hallway. There were a million people who would try and seduce him. There were a million people out there who were not him.  
  
Arthur had been right when he had called the old desktop in the guest room prehistoric. It took the better part of ten minutes to turn on, but at least cursing at it helped distract him from the smell of Arthur that pervaded the room and the almost moment that had happened a few minutes before.   
  
He realised, as he stared at the loading screen, that he was stuck in the house alone with Arthur, who was no doubt going to start climbing the walls quite soon. Merlin was perfectly content to do nothing for a few days, but Arthur was the type who always had to be active, and four walls were never going to be enough. But if he left the house, then they risked some enterprising neighbour calling the newspaper and then, suddenly, they would be inundated with press hounds trying to get the next Arthur Pendragon exclusive.  
  
He heard Arthur coming up to stand in the doorway and he tried to ignore the flush that was growing up his spine as he sat on the rickety old office chair. He wondered if the thoughts that were going through his mind – the ones that had to do with Arthur’s unmade bed behind him and some of Merlin’s oldest fantasies – were visible in the way he was straining not to twitch, but Arthur did not say anything, so it seemed that the man was still not psychic.  
  
As soon as Merlin managed to find the video on the site, Arthur slipped away again, shutting the door behind him. Merlin was grateful for the privacy, probably almost as uncomfortable watching the video as Arthur was with him watching it.  
  
He had discovered early on that, after having met Arthur and becoming  _sort of_ friends with him, it became impossible to watch any of his films without the knowledge that that was  _Arthur_  in front of him ruining the plot. It always felt a little voyeuristic, especially in the last film he had done, with the lengthy sex scene. Merlin felt wrong watching Arthur perform on screen now he knew him, it was like watching himself on television, only with an added element of guilt at the fact that he was ogling his friend’s arse without his knowledge.  
  
It was odd that he did not really have that edge of discomfort when ogling Arthur’s arse in the flesh. Perhaps it was the fact that when Arthur was actually there in front of him, there was always the opportunity for him to turn round and catch Merlin. When he was just a character on screen, he had no way of ever finding out.  
  
He sighed and pressed play. Watching this was probably going to be worse.  
  
When the first scene opened and Arthur was topless, he knew it would be. Sophia was good at her job, he would give her that, she had managed to put in parts that would get Arthur’s fans hooked, and the people who hated him. It was edited together seamlessly, with asides by Sophia every now and then.  
  
All in all, as Gaius had said, it was not that bad. Arthur had a few unpleasant things to say about some of his co-stars, but those feathers were easily unruffled, and Merlin made a mental list of people to send chocolates to, and a vase of flowers for the costume people. And maybe a car for Morgana. He winced as Sophia asked Arthur about their break up and it began a small rant about her vanity and her obsession with being right. None of it was anything Arthur had not already said to her face a dozen times, but she probably wasn’t pleased with it being broadcast to the world, especially those mentions of their sex life. Luckily, Morgana was the kind of person who looked for the person responsible and did not kill the messenger, so she and Arthur would be okay if he grovelled a bit.  
  
The parts about Uther were not as easily glossed over. Arthur’s relationship with his father had always been fraught. In his opinion, Uther never saw him as good enough, in Uther’s opinion, Arthur had to be the best at everthing. They rarely saw eye to eye on anything, but Uther was the only one Arthur ever caved in to. Merlin grinned a little to himself as he heard Sophia coax a few home truths out of Arthur that Uther could do with hearing. Maybe some good could come of the mess after all. But there were other comments, which in themselves might be innocuous, but which were cleverly merged together to make Uther seem like some megalomaniacal dictator. Friday was going to be interesting.  
  
The next parts were scenes of Arthur doing things he really shouldn’t have. There was a section which made it look like he had been drunk driving, another that had him making a fool of himself by asking some stupid questions of a charity organisation, and him getting into a fist fight in a club which Merlin had never known happened.  
  
He jotted down some things on a pad of paper, a list of charities Arthur should donate money to in an almost secret manner, a note to track down the man who had earned the two black eyes and find out what had really happened, because Merlin was certain that it was not the way it seemed. He had seen Arthur hit people before, but usually when they had either threatened him or one of his friends seriously. It had never been without provocation.  
  
Then they got to the part about him and Merlin laughed out loud. Sophia obviously did not like him at all. There was very little purpose to that section except to cause problems between him and Arthur. Luckily she had never really seen the two of them talking without her as a barrier, so she had no idea that the fact that Arthur called him an incompetent freak behind his back and made references to his lack of sex life and the possibility that he was a eunuch caused him more amusement than anger.  
  
The parts about Gaius were probably caused by a similar vengeful streak. He had no doubt refused to comment about Arthur to her and she had managed to find all the least flattering things the actor had said about him and string them together. In all it had the effect of making Arthur look like an arrogant prick, but anyone who knew him already knew that, after all.  
  
The video finished on a montage of Arthur, hung-over, insulting everyone from God, to the Royal family, to children with cancer and people with dogs (all of which were going to require grovelling on hand and foot and  _large_  donations of money given  _very publically_ ).  
  
Sophia came onscreen again and asked many questions such as ‘what sort of a role model is this for our young children?’ and ‘should people like this really be given such leeway?’  
  
The video was not the only thing he needed to see, though, the comments underneath were just as important, so as soon as it ended, he was scrolling down to look through it.   
  
There were the expected  _I can’t believe he said that about dogs, I’m never watching another of his movies again, and I used to think he was cute_  in about five different ways. However, the overall response was  _That bitch_ , accompanied with a healthy number of  _Arthur Pendragon is so hot!!1!!_ and other posts extolling his virtues and his six pack. The standard of the writing was not particularly brilliant, but it did help to know that there were people out there who didn’t really care what he said as long as he looked good while he was saying it.  
  
Then there were the more intelligent comments.  _Pendragongirl_  had posted what Merlin thought was the best of the comments.  
  
_It’s important to bear in mind, while watching this, that it has clearly been pieced together from a lot of footage. From what I’ve heard, the whole ten minutes of footage took a month and a half to gather. We have no way of telling what was cut out. To judge Arthur based purely on such a biased portrayal would be unfair.  
  
You should also take into account that all of the footage was taken without his knowledge or his permission and, while that does mean that he might be more honest, I’m sure you say things to your friends or b/gf that you wouldn’t say to anyone else, and you would not want to be secretly filmed and broadcast.   
  
For those of you who are interested in Arthur’s side of the story, his press release is here and there is a statement issued by his people here.   
  
Personally, I am appalled that this woman invaded his privacy like this and while I’m a little shocked by some of the footage, I’m keeping an open mind. _  
  
Merlin smiled and copy-pasted the comment into a word file before printing it off.   
  
He went from there over to the livejournal communities dedicated to Arthur. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that the more  _official_  communities had actually had their membership increased. A note on one (of which he was a member, not that he would ever tell Arthur that) stated that three members had been banned and anyone found posting anything rude or insulting would be kicked out without a warning.  
  
There were of course, the communities for Arthur’s anti-fans, and he browsed them warily. But they seemed to be doing a good job of ridiculing themselves, so that was that, really.  
  
He sighed and emailed Gaius quickly before he logged off, collecting the print outs that he had made of the more encouraging comments to show to Arthur.  
  
The man was sitting in the living room glaring at daytime television angrily.  
  
“You know, no matter how hard you stare at him, David Dickinson won’t spontaneously combust,” he said as he came to stand in the doorway, “believe me, I’ve tried.” Arthur turned to stare at him, looking like he had been caught out doing something dreadful, and Merlin knew that watching daytime television was pretty bad, but it wasn’t worthy of the death penalty. Arthur did not reply, however, and Merlin realised he was waiting for Merlin’s opinion.  
  
“You don’t half say some stupid things when you’re drunk,” Merlin began with a sigh, “and you do realise that the thing most people are obsessing about is the fact that you said that giving money to animal charities is stupid.”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Arthur said, glowering back at David Dickinson. “I said that it felt stupid to give money to animal charities when there were people dying every day of lack of food and clean water, and I said that I was fed up of visiting Cancer wards and smiling when I didn’t see what good I was doing.”  
  
Merlin sighed deeply and slumped down.  
  
“Ask for possession of the full footage,” he said, “although I imagine Gaius and your lawyers have already done that. Then we can set down to putting this all to rights. The press conference was a good start, but you’re going to need to do some major back-tracking, and send Morgana some flowers.”  
  
“I already did,” Arthur muttered, “well, I asked Gaius to see to it.”  
  
“So, I’m a eunuch?” Merlin asked after a moment, trying his hardest to keep his face straight. Arthur’s face shut down completely.  
  
“Well, I didn’t know you had some epic romance going on with the boy next door, did I?” he said. “Perhaps if you had  _told_  me you were gay, I wouldn’t have thought anything about it.” Merlin laughed.  
  
“First, Will doesn’t live next door. Second, it’s not an epic romance,” he said with a pause, reaching out to grab the remote so he could find out what else was on. “Will and I are friends, the sex is just… because.”  
  
“It’s none of my business,” Arthur muttered.  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Merlin agreed amicably, “but I’m going to tell you anyway, in case you get secretly filmed again and you feel the need to talk about my sex life. I want you to get the details right. Will and I have an… understanding, and neither of us has a boyfriend. I don’t really have enough time for one. I’m too busy trying to stop you from making some huge cock-up, and Will… I don’t know why he doesn’t, but he doesn’t anyway.” Arthur snorted a little under his breath. “What?” Arthur looked at him as though he was an idiot. “What, Arthur? Just spit it out.”  
  
“You do realise that  _you_  are his boyfriend, right?” the blond asked. Merlin just blinked at him, stupidly.  
  
“No, I just explained…”  
  
“I know,” Arthur said, “and I know you think I’m blind, and that might be how you see it, but he’s a little possessive of you for someone who isn’t in a relationship. I’ve seen it before. Morgana’s guys are all like that and you know she never thinks they’re anything more than entertainment.”  
  
“But we’re not…”  
  
“You aren’t, he is.”  
  
“Shut up, Arthur. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin snapped. Arthur shrugged.  
  
“Whatever… so, any other ideas?” Arthur asked, switching the conversation again, leaving Merlin’s mind reeling. He took a moment to shift his mind onto the right track again and wordlessly handed over the papers. Arthur began to read through them.  
  
“Thank god that you have some of the most obsessive fans around. They’re doing half your PR work for you.” He saw a smile creep onto Arthur’s face. “You might think about going to a few of the conventions I talked about as some sort of thank you.” He recovered a little of his equilibrium when Arthur looked up at him in horror. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s good for publicity, and you enjoy them, you really do.”  
  
“But they scream… and there was that one girl who had me sign her bra.”  
  
“She was… a little odd,” Merlin conceded, “but they’re mostly harmless.”  
  
“To you maybe,” Arthur said with a shudder, “but they want to kidnap me and keep me in their basement and use me for nefarious purposes. They write  _stories_ , Merlin.” His assistant smiled and nodded. He had read some of those stories.  
  
“Well, it’s up to you, I suppose, but they have been working overtime in the last two days.” Arthur sighed and nodded wearily; his submission made Merlin grin widely.  
  
“Okay, so that’s that. I’ll deal with your apologies to your co-stars, and when we’ve heard back from your lawyers then we can sit down with Gaius and hash out some sort of response. I’d suggest a ‘leak’ personally. If you come right out with an answer, people are going to be trying to find holes in it. If someone at Sophia’s company secretly releases the full footage then it should stand on its own.” Arthur nodded.  
  
***  
  
After the Sophia disaster had been sorted out via several dozen phone calls to Gaius, more than a couple to an interested party at Sophia’s company and far more to delivery companies in the Outer London area, Arthur was a lot more at ease, although there were still moments when he seemed lost in thought. Merlin did not notice them much though, he was still trying to cope with Arthur’s presence in his non-Arthur life and the fact that maybe Will might see things a little differently from him.  
  
Tuesday evening dinner, with Arthur and Will sitting diagonally opposite each other was uncomfortable. Merlin was sitting next to Arthur and opposite Will, and he had never felt so much like a dog’s chew toy before in his life. Arthur would nudge him to attract his attention and Will’s foot would bump against his under the table. Arthur would rest a hand on his shoulder and Will’s toes would slide under his trouser leg. He was gradually shuffling further into the corner, away from both of them and trying to only talk to his mother without insulting either of them.  
  
Will spent the whole evening glaring at Arthur and contradicting everything he said. Arthur spent the whole evening being especially charming and Merlin’s mother spent the whole evening smiling with suppressed amusement at the three of them.   
  
When the main course was finished Merlin almost leapt up from the table to carry the dishes out. He was at the door with his first load when Arthur offered to help him, which almost made him lose his grip and earned him a small heart attack: apparently at some point in between their meal last night and sitting down to dinner that day, Hunith had found the good plates and cutlery and if he smashed any of them she would make him wish he had never been born. As soon as Arthur offered, Will of course decided he had to help as well and so Merlin was pursued from the dining room by the very people he had been hoping to his avoid, while his mother finished off her glass of wine.  
  
Pudding was no better. Half way through, Arthur had decided to tell a story about when Merlin had first come to work for him and this, of course, required him to wrap an arm about Merlin’s shoulders while he explained how Merlin had very nearly got himself fired through a series of ridiculous misunderstandings.  
  
Merlin braced himself as he saw Will’s eyes harden across the table, but even so, he wasn’t expecting Will’s foot to find its way unerringly to his crotch and he jerked violently, forcing himself to laugh nervously.  
  
Arthur gave him a curious look and saw the slight glazing of his eyes along with Will’s smirk. Merlin felt mortified when he realised that Arthur  _knew_  what Will was doing, but he could not say why. Merlin had even sat next to him at one of Uther’s family meals when Morgana, with an arch smile on her face, had done the exact same thing. But, feeling Arthur’s hand tighten on his shoulder, he felt again as though there was something he was missing out on completely.  
  
Will’s foot didn’t seem to be going anywhere and Merlin could feel himself becoming aroused. His mother was still sitting right there and he concentrated very hard on her presence, willing himself to stay calm. Then Will’s toes began to move, stroking along the inside of his thigh and then back again.  
  
Gaius… he decided, there was little that turned him on less than Gaius. Gaius naked. He shuddered at the mental image.  
  
“Thank you very much for the meal, Mrs Emrys,” Arthur said, all politeness and smiles, although his expression slipped into an evil smirk was his gaze passed over Will. “How about Merlin and I go and do the dishes. I’ve just been letting the pair of you wait on me, I do feel that I should help out.”  
  
“No, Arthur,” Hunith said, “I can hardly let you…”  
  
“I insist,” Arthur said smoothly, standing up. “Come on, Merlin.” He half pulled Merlin away and the young man concentrated very hard on Gaius, naked, telling him how much of an idiot he was before hurrying out to the kitchen.  
  
“Fuck,” he said under his breath as soon as he had made it to the sink. Arthur left to bring in more dishes and frowned at him.  
  
“You could just tell him not to do that,” Arthur pointed out, his voice low so that Will and Hunith wouldn’t be able to hear them over their own conversation. Merlin shrugged, still feeling uncomfortably guilty.  
  
“He’s never done it in front of Mum before,” he said, trying to busy himself, frantically. “I mean, I don’t know what he’s got into. He’s usually at least a little but restrained when there are other people around.”  
  
“Marking his territory,” Arthur commented, walking up to lean past Merlin and turn on the hot tap. Merlin, already confused and slightly aroused, felt his breath catch as Arthur collided with his shoulder and he knew Arthur must have heard it, although he made no indication. As Arthur drew back his breath rushed over Merlin’s ear, making him shiver slightly.  
  
Gaius… Gaius naked… Gaius and Uther. Merlin felt a little nauseous, but at least he wasn’t reacting quite so badly to Arthur’s presence any more.  
  
He couldn’t help himself from looking into Arthur’s eyes as he was pulling away and he swallowed as he found Arthur looking back at him, looking a little confused himself. They froze there for a moment, Arthur’s hand hovering over Merlin’s left arm, just staring at each other in uncertainty. Then Arthur jerked away, as though burnt.  
  
“I’ll go and get the rest of the stuff…” he said. There was another long pause, before he smiled affectionately. “The sink’s about to overflow, idiot.”  
  
Merlin started and turned round, managing to turn off the tap before he flooded half the kitchen, taking a deep breath.  
  
He heard Arthur get caught up in a conversation with his mother as he went back into the dining room and he braced himself on the side of the sink, reminding himself that he had always had an over active imagination and he was looking for things that weren’t there.  
  
“He’s straight, remember,” Will’s voice came from the doorway and Merlin groaned.  
  
“I know, Will,” he said, “you seem to be the one who’s forgetting. What’s with you?” Will shrugged uncomfortably. “Look, Arthur and I are  _friends_.”  
  
“Yes… he’s your friend, who you’ve had a hopeless crush on since you were sixteen, that’s only got worse,” Will murmured, leaning back against the wall. “Maybe one day he’ll get curious and wonder what it’s like, and of course, there’s good old Merlin who always does exactly as he asks, ready, willing and able. Then it’ll be over and he’ll go back to ignoring you except for asking you to take his calls.”  
  
“Will, I’m not an idiot,” Merlin protested. “Look, he’s not like that. I know he comes on a little strong, but he’s really quite normal underneath…”  
  
“Right, of course he is… and you’ve always been an idiot for him, Merlin,” he looked down at his watch. “I should get going, anyway. If you want me, you know where I’ll be.” He turned and walked out, again.  
  
“Bugger,” Merlin muttered to himself, shoving his hands into the water and watching as waves rolled out over the sides, covering the worktop and draining board with puddles of soapy water.  
  
***  
  
Arthur showed no sign of leaving the next day. In fact, Merlin woke up to find him attempting to cook breakfast while Hunith laughed and offered advice. He stood in a doorway for a moment, just watching before the amusement became too much and he had to speak.  
  
“Because  _how hard_  can cooking eggs be?” he asked sarcastically. Arthur shot him a glare and his mother bit her lips together to hold in another peal of laughter. He walked over to peer over Arthur’s shoulder at the cremated eggs in the pan, that looked like they had been run over by a lawnmower. “And this is attempt number…?” he asked. Arthur mumbled something. “Sorry?”  
  
“Five,” Arthur admitted.   
  
“They don’t look that bad,” Merlin’s mother said, patting Arthur on the arm. “You’ve got a lot better.” Arthur offered her a grateful look before turning to Merlin.  
  
“This is all your fault, anyway,” he said, gesticulating with a spatula in a way that made Merlin want to break into sobs of hysterical laughter.  
  
“How’s that then?” he managed to ask when he had taken a few deep breaths.  
  
“If you had got up earlier, you could have made the eggs. Then I wouldn’t have burnt them all and I’d have something edible.” Merlin paused for a moment, leaning back against the worktop.  
  
“Did you just admit that I’m better at something than you are?” he asked.   
  
“No,” Arthur replied immediately. “This is merely another example of you being a terrible assistant.”  
  
“I don’t think making you eggs was in the job description,” Merlin said, before turning to get his usual bowl of muesli.   
  
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Getting my breakfast,” Merlin answered easily. “There’s no point in both of us starving.” Arthur stared at him in outrage, but his muttered insults had no effect other than to make Merlin’s grin expand.  
  
“Now that I don’t have to worry about our guest going unsupervised,” Hunith said, walking to the door, “I should be off. You two behave yourselves.”  
  
“Yes, Mum,” Merlin replied through a mouthful of breakfast. Arthur nodded and gave her a million pound smile.  
  
“You know, once they’re burnt, you’re supposed to take them off the heat,” Merlin commented idly, before walking over to the chair and sitting down, crossing his legs as he watched Arthur throw attempt five into the bin and start again from scratch. He interjected advice every now and then, and soon Arthur had a couple of eggs that were almost edible.  
  
“Well done,” Merlin said with a small round of applause, “you’ve officially been granted the title of ‘menace’ in the kitchen. I will never ask you to cook anything ever again.” Arthur ignored him and made a great point of enjoying his eggs. He seemed to have decided that adding bacon to the attempt was a bad idea. “So, you’ve never cooked eggs before.”  
  
“I’m really good at noodles,” Arthur said, “and I can make stuffed chicken.”  
  
“You can make stuffed chicken, but you can’t fry an egg?” Merlin asked in astonishment. Arthur shrugged self-consciously.  
  
“There was a recipe,” he explained.  
  
“Oh…”  
  
Merlin took a few minutes to fill in the lamentable gap in Arthur’s education, showing him how to boil an egg and also, incidentally, make a cake.  
  
“This is insane,” Merlin said a moment later, watching Arthur scrape the bowl with the amazed relish of someone who had never done it before. He was struggling not to watch Arthur suck cake mixture off his fingers, although his throat was going very dry and he was beginning to feel quite hot as he did not watch Arthur swipe his index finger around the bowl once more.  
  
“What’s insane?” Arthur asked.  
  
“You, this… sitting in my kitchen,  _making a cake_  with a film star.” Arthur hesitated, a finger hovering on his bottom lip, where it focused Merlin’s gaze completely.  
  
“What about sitting in your kitchen, making a cake with a friend?” he offered, a little uncertainly. Merlin dragged his gaze away from his annoyingly attractive finger and back to Arthur’s gaze before smiling as easily as he could.  
  
“I suppose that’s not as insane,” he agreed, before swallowing hard as Arthur quirked a smile and proceeded to lick the cake mix from his finger, slowly. This was hell.  
  
Arthur sucked his finger into his mouth entirely, humming appreciation and Merlin had to dig his fingernails into his thighs  _hard_  to stop himself from jumping the man then and there. He needed to get out of there, and to stop Arthur from… slowly pulling his finger out of his mouth like that, slick with saliva. Dear Lord, he had never known making cakes could be so…  
  
“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Huh?” was all Merlin could manage to muster up in reply.  
  
“You look even more gormless than usual.”  
  
“I think I might have eaten a little too much mixture,” he said, shaking himself to try and get his brain in gear. “I’m feeling a little off… I’ll go and lie down, if you’ll be all right on your own.”   
  
Arthur looked at him with disdain, but there was a tiny bit of cake mixture stuck to his bottom lip, taunting Merlin even while Arthur looked unimpressed.  
  
“I did manage to survive without you for most of my life, Merlin; I won’t die if you leave me alone for a little while.” Merlin took that as enough of a dismissal and almost ran from the room, up to his bedroom, where he was greeted by Arthur staring down at him intently from every surface.  
  
“I can’t do this,” he said to them. There was no answer. He could hear Arthur moving around downstairs, from the kitchen to the living room, switching on the television, and, biting his lips and feeling more nervous than he had done since he was about fourteen, he undid his trousers and slipped them down his legs.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered to the poster of Arthur on the back of his door. “It’s not like you’re going to do it for me.”  
  
It was probably the quickest he had ever jerked himself off, and definitely the quietest. Every breath he took felt like it was too loud, like Arthur would hear it downstairs, over the sound of the television, and know what he was doing, what he was thinking. Every slight creak of his bed underneath him sounded as loud as thunder to him, and the hammering of his heart was so frantic he was certain that everyone in a mile radius could hear it trying to break out of his chest.  
  
He bit down on his lip as he came into his hand, managing to bite back a dull moan. In the seconds that followed he waited to hear Arthur ask him what he was doing, his ears so alert that they picked up every tiny noise from the living room. There was nothing except the sound of Arthur channel hopping, so, self-consciously, he cleaned himself up.  
  
When he walked back downstairs, he knew that he was blushing, but he reminded himself that there was no way Arthur could know. No way at all. He smiled shakily as he stood in the doorway to the living room and Arthur looked up.  
  
“Feeling better?” Arthur asked and Merlin had a moment of blind panic before he remembered what he had said about feeling a little off.  
  
“Yes… yeah, must have just been too early for raw egg, or something,” he said with a shrug. He was saved by the cooker alarm going off, and hurried off to the kitchen to rescue their culinary efforts.  
  
By the time he came back, he had relaxed a little more and he could look Arthur in the eye properly. He settled down into an argument about what to watch and eventually capitulated as his phone rang, tossing the remote back to Arthur as he left the room.  
  
“Gwen?” he asked, answering.  
  
“ _Merlin! Hi!_ ” Gwen replied cheerfully. “ _How are you? How’s Arthur?_ ”  
  
“We’re both fine,” he said.  
  
“ _So he is with you,_ ” she said, and he could almost see her smile. “ _Morgana and I were wondering whether, after Saturday, you’d just left him to deal with it all on his own. We wouldn’t have blamed you, not that we thought you were the kind of person to do that…_ ”  
  
“It’s just that sometimes we want to stick pins into them,” he agreed with a laugh. “No, I’m still his employee,” he said with a sigh, “although I haven’t got an apology yet, but I’m not holding my breath. This is Arthur after all. He turned up on my doorstep on Monday and pretty much demanded that I fix it.”  
  
“ _Well, you know Arthur,_ ” Gwen said sympathetically. “ _He’s always been more about actions than words, which is why most of the stuff on that tape was such bollocks._ ”  
  
“Gwen!” Merlin exclaimed. He had rarely heard her swear before.   
  
“ _Well, it’s true,_ ” she said, “ _although Morgana says that if he had listened to all of us in the first place, none of it would have happened._ ”  
  
“As soon as he’s over his heartbreak,” Merlin said, sitting down on the stairs again, “that is a point I intend to make very clearly.”  
  
“ _Good… so, where are you? Or aren’t you going to tell me?_ ” Merlin laughed a little.  
  
“For all I know, you might be a spy for some newspaper, or even Morgana,” he told her. “We’ll be back by Friday, or Uther’s promised that he’ll have Arthur fire me. Until then we’re just… taking some time off.”  
  
“ _Good,_ ” Gwen said. “ _Oh, and Morgana says thank you for the flowers and the chocolates. They were very sweet of you._ ”  
  
“For once,” Merlin told her, lowering his voice, “Arthur did that by himself, so tell her to thank him.” There was a muttering at the other end of the line that Merlin took to be Gwen telling Morgana that revelation and there was a shuffling noise until a new voice came.  
  
“ _Arthur sent me flowers on his own?_ ” Morgana asked, disbelief clearly evident in her tone.  
  
“Yes,” Merlin said, “I was surprised as well.”  
  
“ _Right, well tell him next time he slates me on national television that a new car would be a better apology, or something a little less… cliché. Although they are very nice._ ”  
  
“I’ll be sure to tell him. Anything else you’d like me to pass on? I understand you’re not talking to him at the moment.”  
  
“ _Nothing,_ ” she said. “ _Take care of him, Merlin. He got himself all twisted up over Sophia, and as infuriating as he is, I do feel a strange sort of affection for him. Sort of like an annoying younger brother._ ”  
  
“Who you’ve slept with on multiple occasions,” Merlin pointed out.  
  
“ _When you put it like that, it sounds… sordid,_ ” she said, and Merlin could picture her slight pout as she spoke. “ _So, is it just the two of you?_ ”  
  
“Pretty much… and,” Merlin paused, listening to check that Arthur was still watching television, from the sarcastic commentary that was being given to one of the talk shows, he still seemed to be engrossed, “he sort of found out about me being gay.”  
  
“ _Did you tell him?_ ” Morgana asked, completely matter-of-fact.  
  
“No, he sort of walked in on…”  
  
“ _You having sex!_ ” Morgana said, and Merlin could hear Gwen in the background asking to know what was going on.  
  
“No! Just me… and Will… and it was fairly obvious,” Merlin finished lamely.  
  
“ _Oh… well, that’s not so bad. I thought you were going to tell me he’d broken into your apartment and found you on your back-_ ”  
  
“Morgana!” Merlin cut her off. This was not a conversation he wanted to have when Arthur was in the other room.  
  
“ _Fine, fine… how’s he taking it?_ ” she asked, “ _How are you taking it?_ ”  
  
“It’s weird,” Merlin admitted, wondering why he had decided to tell Morgana about this and not Gwen “knowing he knows.”  
  
“ _Does he know that you’re in love with him?_ ” Morgana asked and Merlin was left gaping. He always forgot how blunt Morgana was sometimes. She could never help but speak her mind.  
  
“No… no. I don’t think so anyway. How did  _you_  know?” He asked, hissing down the phone.  
  
“ _You’re pretty obvious,_ ” she replied airily. “ _Even Uther knows, although he doesn’t say anything about it obviously._ ”  
  
“Uther knows?” Merlin asked, feeling completely overwhelmed.  
  
“ _Considering the number of times you’ve covered for Arthur to him, I should think so._ ”  
  
“But that doesn’t mean that…”  
  
“Merlin?” Arthur called from the other room, “You still on the phone?”  
  
“Yeah…” he called, “I’ll be in in a minute.” He lowered his voice again, “Sorry, he’s getting bored again.”  
  
“ _I’m sure you’ll find something to do to keep him entertained,_ ” Morgana said with a laugh, leaving Merlin speechless for another few seconds.  
  
“In case it escaped your notice during all the times you had sex with him,” Merlin whispered down the phone. “He’s sort of straight.”  
  
“ _Well, I always did think he was trying a little hard,_ ” she replied with a laugh. “ _I’ll see you on Friday, Merlin,_ ” she told him, “ _and Gwen and I expect a full account of your activities._ ” She hung up with a laugh and Merlin found himself sitting on the stairs listening to the dial tone trying to think of some sort of reply.  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur called again. “Who is it?” He sighed and stood up, thrusting his phone back into his pocket.  
  
“Morgana,” he called back. “She says thank you for the flowers, but next time could you buy her a car.”  
  
“She’s insufferable,” Arthur snapped, looking up as Merlin walked back into the living room. “A car? And why does she assume there’s going to be a next time?” Merlin shook his head and refrained from answering that it was Arthur and Morgana and with the pair of them there was always a next time as far as arguments went.  
  
***  
  
Will turned up on the doorstep a couple of hours later with a bag full of sticky buns from the bakers on the green and a six pack of beer in the other hand. Merlin felt guilt wash over him again.  
  
“I’m a git,” Will said shortly. “You’re a git, Pendragon’s a git.”  
  
“If you were aiming for apology, you’re a little off the mark,” Merlin replied, a little shorter than he would usually have been, because there was something in Will’s eyes that told him that Arthur was right when he had said that Will saw their sometimes sex as a relationship in a screwed up sort of way.   
  
“Who said anything about an apology,” Will said with a shrug. “This is a peace offering.”  
  
“There’s a difference?” Merlin asked, stepping aside to let his friend in.   
  
“Of course,” Will said, their banter proceeding on automatic. “An apology says ‘I was wrong,’ a peace offering says ‘let’s ignore everything’.” Merlin nodded and shut the door behind him just as Arthur walked out of the living room to watch Will carefully. For the first time, Will made no possessive action towards Merlin as soon as he caught Arthur looking at them. There was no kiss hello or arm wrapped around his waist, just a half smile and an offer of the paper bag.  
  
“Sticky bun?” Will asked, and Merlin understood what he had meant by peace offering. There was a tentative second when Will’s eyes met Arthur’s and they seemed to have a silent conversation before Arthur reached out to fish one from the bag, looking at it a little suspiciously. “I didn’t poison them today, didn’t know whether you’d prefer arsenic or cyanide.” Arthur, slowly and deliberately, took a bite, not glancing away from Will the whole time. After he had swallowed, he gave a smug grin.  
  
“I’ve always been partial to strychnine myself,” he said, and suddenly the tension was almost gone as Will grinned.  
  
“Really – ever poison anyone interesting?” he asked, pushing his way into the living room.  
  
“I once put laxative in the glass of a Newspaper editor,” Arthur replied, following Will in. “I was only thirteen at the time, though, so I hadn’t really graduated to the hard stuff.”   
  
Merlin, bemused, followed them in and was saved from the choice of who to sit next to by Will stretching out to take up the whole of one sofa. He perched next to Arthur and watched as the two, through some impossibly prearranged plan of conversation, managed to be civil to each other for a good ten minutes.  
  
“Creepy,” he muttered under his breath, not quite loud enough for either of them to hear.   
  
***  
  
Wednesday evening and the whole of Thursday passed quickly and quietly. Merlin had expected Arthur to fidget and sulk for most of his time, but the star seemed comfortable just hanging around the house, watching bad daytime TV and DVDs with Merlin on his mother’s tiny old television, which was barely even digital.   
  
Halfway through Thursday, Arthur even managed to talk Merlin into putting on one of his old films and they commented their way through it, dissolving into helpless babbles of laughter so often that Arthur said he was glad that Merlin didn’t do commentary on DVDs with them or they would never get anything done. When the credits rolled, it didn’t take much persuading for Merlin to get out the rest of his collection of Arthur’s earlier films.   
  
He didn’t even notice as Arthur worked his way down them (noting that they were arranged in chronological order) and saw that every special edition was there that he had ever filmed, including the short lived and appallingly badly written television series he had done when he was barely thirteen. If Arthur was watching him a little strangely as he placed the next selection into the DVD player, he put it down to this Arthur, as opposed to the Arthur he knew from work, being a bit weird.  
  
It turned out, after he hit mute, that Arthur was really quite good at playing film dub, far better than Gwen was, and it was really disconcerting to have the right voice saying the wrong lines as he watched the screen.  
  
Will arrived half-way through  _The Dragon’s Call_ , letting himself in for once, and making both Arthur and Merlin jump when he put words into the mouth of a minor character, lowering his voice to a comic gravelly bass.  
  
Merlin felt more relaxed than he had in ages. He had even managed to stop reading something into every time Arthur touched his shoulder or his arm. It was just three ordinary people having a laugh, except for how Arthur was one of the most famous men in the world. But that was a minor concern when he was making his character comment on the best way to eat fish and chips and how that was obviously a cosmic fact of such importance that it would save the world.  
  
So it was with no little disappointment that Merlin woke up early on Friday morning and glared out at the overcast sky, just barely lit with the first few rays of dawn.  
  
He bumped into a yawning Arthur on his way out of the shower, and even he seemed a little subdued as he wandered past.  
  
His mother gave them both hugs before they left.  
  
“Don’t be a stranger,” she told Arthur with a smile before leaning up to kiss his cheek. She then turned back to her son.  
  
“That goes for you too, you know. When I say phone home, I don’t mean once a month…once a week, at least, please.”   
  
“I’ll make sure he does,” Arthur assured her as Merlin attempted to protest his innocence. “Thank you for having me.”  
  
“It’s been a pleasure,” she said, giving Merlin one last hug before hurrying them out of the door and down to the car Uther had sent for them. “You should go, you don’t want to keep Mr Pendragon waiting.” Arthur nodded, his face closing up a little with the mention of his father.  
  
“Bye, Mum.” Merlin muttered, lingering outside a moment longer, nearly regretting his decision to return. Although Uther was not the sort of man you said no to. Merlin had managed to perfect the art of talking to him reasonably without being slaughtered, but that did not mean he was not still filled with terror every time the man spoke.  
  
“He’s a lovely young man,” Hunith said, her voice saying something completely different and more suggestive, “and I’m sure Will will get over it.”  
  
“ _Mum,_ ” Merlin hissed, “he’s straight, and I have more sense than that.”  
  
“If you say so,” she replied, far too easily for Merlin’s liking.   
  
“I do… now, take care of yourself,” he said, kissing her lightly.  
  
“You too…” she replied, before shoving him towards the open car door, where Arthur was waiting impatiently, one foot tapping on the car floor.  
  
He ducked into the car and sighed as he waved goodbye and the car drew away.  
  
***

The car journey alternated between companionable and utterly awkward from moment to moment. Merlin got the idea that each conversation the pair of them had wavered on a tightrope, and inevitably, blindfolded as he was, he kept missing his footing and tumbling down into the waiting pit of spikes. He would say something and Arthur would lapse into uncomfortable silence, or glare out of the window venomously, then he would say something else and the pair of them would be back to the relaxed back and forth they had enjoyed at the house.  
  
However, no matter how fraught with unknowable dangers conversation with Arthur was, it was nothing compared to the minefield that was a meeting with Uther Pendragon.   
  
As the pair of them reluctantly got out of the car and Merlin followed Arthur’s steady stride into the studio offices and towards his father’s home away from home, Merlin wished he could be anywhere else but there.  
  
When they entered the office, Uther Pendragon’s back was silhouetted against his floor to ceiling windows, impeccably dressed in a horrendously expensive suit and shoes that had no right to be as well polished as they were. Merlin wondered whether suicide really was painless, because anything would be preferable to waiting for the man to speak.  
  
Uther cut an impressive figure. Unlike many men who, as they approached and made their way through middle age, filled out their waist line and watched as their facial features slid slowly downwards, Uther had kept himself trim. His shoulders were as broad as ever and he seemed to be nothing but pure muscle. It would have been easy to see him as a bouncer at a nightclub rather than the head of a world famous production company, especially with the scar that narrowly missed his right eye.   
  
Merlin had no trouble imagining Arthur’s father as a mob boss, or a pirate captain, or any number of things, nor did he have any trouble reconciling the man’s reputation as a formidable and ruthless business man with his appearance.   
  
At least he was consistent. He was what you saw, there was no pretence. Perhaps it would have been worse if he had looked cuddly or genial and turned out to be the bitter bastard that he was.  
  
There were rumours that, when he had been younger, Uther had been a happy-go-lucky person; the sort of man who petted dogs in the park and smiled at small children. Gaius had mentioned a few times that the man had been more reasonable  _before_. Before his wife had died, that was, leaving Uther alone with a business and a small son and nothing else holding him together.  
  
Merlin tried to feel sorry for him sometimes. He tried really hard. But he was not the sort of person you  _could_  feel sorry for. Sympathy of any kind seemed repelled by him, and while Arthur could sometimes pull off the poor motherless child act (not that he ever did it on purpose, he was as touchy about his mother’s death as his father was), Merlin never saw Uther as the grieving widower, not a  _sympathetic_  grieving widower, anyway, more of a cold-hearted, single-minded, cynical bastard of a widower.  
  
Uther’s office was designed to keep you off balance as well. There were the huge windows that looked out onto an impressive view and a sudden drop, and the chairs in which you sat were deliberately uncomfortable, although a small part of Merlin’s brain was certain that Uther’s secretary warned him when Merlin was coming so that the man could get out his most torturous furniture.  
  
It took Merlin a moment to realise that Gaius was already there, sitting down and waiting expectantly.  
  
He risked a glance sideways at Arthur and winced internally as he saw just how shuttered off and tense his friend had become.  
  
Uther, when he turned to face them and deigned to speak, was all calculated calm and composure. His voice never raised, and he did not fidget, but in some ways that was worse. Merlin would have preferred it if Uther had yelled at the pair of them, instead of the detached clinical assessment of the situation. When Merlin did something wrong his mother did not hesitate to glare or yell at him, or tell him at length about how what he was doing was wrong. Uther did none of those things. He did not even tell Arthur how disappointed he was, which was another technique Hunith used to her advantage. He merely stated the problems the situation had caused, and that Arthur had displayed poor judgement with Sophia.  
  
It was more like he was reviewing a car than rebuking his son.  
  
Merlin put in a few words in Arthur’s defence, as did Gaius, but after Arthur had interrupted him five times, he gave up and watched the rest of the proceedings in silence.  
  
Finally, Arthur was summarily dismissed from his father’s presence and he stood up to go, Merlin following him.  
  
“Mr Emrys,” Uther’s voice froze him in place and even Arthur looked confused. “If you could stay for a minute.” Merlin walked reluctantly back to his chair, aware of Arthur still lingering in the doorway.  
  
“Father, it was hardly his fault,” Arthur protested, “and he is  _my_  employee. Whatever you…”  
  
“Arthur, I am not going to fire him, and you have places to be. I’m sure you can manage without him for five minutes,” Uther said, without even looking at his son. His eyes were glued to Merlin.  
  
“I really…”  
  
“Arthur, you neglected your duties enough over the last couple of months. Please start again as you mean to go on.”  
  
“Yes, Father,” Arthur said, hesitating a moment longer before leaving the room. Merlin could hear the agitation in his footsteps as he walked away.  
  
Uther leaned forward across his desk, one sleeve lifting up to reveal a strip of what looked like solid gold watch.  
  
“All in all,” the man said, staring across at Merlin and Gaius with a gaze that was almost hypnotic. “This incident has actually played out quite well, not that I would tell Arthur that. The publicity has been… astounding.” He smiled a little, making Merlin shift uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if Uther was saying what he thought Uther was saying. He shot a glance at Gaius who looked a little perturbed, but not at all shocked.  
  
“Indeed,” the older man next to him agreed. “The video has brought a lot more interest to this production than it would have otherwise had, even with both Arthur and Miss Le Fay being involved.” Merlin gaped at him.  
  
“Precisely,” Uther continued, “I thought, at first, that this sort of leak would be disastrous, but I have had more interest from investors and reporters in the last three days than in the previous year. If we can bring the release date forward a little bit, and have that Sophia girl at the premiere… perhaps we could arrange a chance meeting for them, somewhere nice and public.”  
  
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Merlin said, still staring at Uther in amazement. His son had just had his heart broken and the man wanted to use it to help publicity.  
  
“What is good for the film is good for my son,” Uther told him in a no nonsense tone. “Although Arthur does not always see it that way.” He looked across at Merlin, “it has been said that there is no such thing as bad publicity, this situation has shown me that that may in fact be true. A little more on the subject might not hurt. The public has rallied round Arthur in his moment of need, now that he has made amends. Everyone likes a redeemed man.” Merlin felt a little sick as he listened to Uther continue. “No one likes the woman who tried to destroy him. If only we could get him and Miss Le Fay to see eye to eye again, everyone loves a happy ending. Perhaps you could have a word with him, Mr Emrys, and Miss Le Fay too, Gaius.”  
  
“I don’t think it would work,” Merlin said, “they aren’t…”  
  
“Then make it work, Mr Emrys,” Uther replied simply. “You may go.”  
  
Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Uther took a file from his desk and seemingly forgot that Merlin or Gaius even existed. He stood, dumbly and walked from the office, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely confused.  
  
***  
  
Merlin stolidly refused to mention Uther’s suggestion to Arthur in any way, shape or form, despite Gaius’ cajoling and insistence that it wasn’t  _real_ , just a possibility. After all, what better way to recover from the Sophia situation than to get the golden couple of Camelot Industries back together?  
  
Merlin reminded him about what had happened the last time the pair of them had gone anywhere near a relationship together, and what exactly Arthur had said on that film.  
  
Gaius had nodded sagely, before hurrying off with the words ‘nothing’s truly impossible if you put your mind to it,’ floating behind him. Merlin groaned. He always forgot that Gaius worked directly for Uther. He was a publicist for the studio, not for Arthur, although he tended to help out no matter what when Merlin phoned him up. But there were times when he thought that the man was almost as ruthless as his employer.  
  
Life with Arthur fell back almost into what it used to be: the actor was an insufferable prat, Merlin told him he was an insufferable prat, Arthur told Merlin that he was an idiot and Merlin would phone Gwen or Will from time to time to complain.  
  
Except it wasn’t that simple anymore. Arthur was still an insufferable prat, but the moments of genuine kindness and  _humanity_  had increased, so that they showed even when he was being a git. The insults he shot at Merlin now were edged with affectionate amusement all the time, none of them was intended as any sort of criticism, and Merlin even found that Arthur would  _talk_  to him, about his mother or Will. The star had begun to  _show an interest_  in his life.  
  
That in itself would not be so hard to understand. After all, now that Arthur knew that Merlin  _had_  a family and had not just sprung fully formed from the ground one day, his ultimate destiny in life to be Arthur’s personal slave, it only made sense that he would ask about it. It was the changes that Merlin found in himself that were more worrying.  
  
He had thought that he had been in the worst possible situation, loving the unattainable Arthur from as close by as possible. But if anything, the recent events had served to make him  _more_  in love with the man. When Merlin called him an insufferable prat he still meant it, but he would not have changed it for the world, and every time Arthur touched him, even lightly, he wanted to slam him up against the nearest wall and do things that would make him forget that Sophia ever existed. That last part was not really new, but it was surprisingly stronger than it had been.  
  
Not to mention the conversations with Will. They were still laden with their usual suggestion and innuendo, but his childhood friend seemed to have stepped back a bit, and Merlin tried not to read too much into that. There were no suggestions of Will coming up to see him, or him taking an evening to meet up with Will. The conversation was just as confident and comfortable as ever, but if he ever strayed too close, then Will would deftly guide him away.  
  
It all came to a head two weeks later.  
  
Arthur had been even stranger than usual around him all day, staring at Merlin’s back when he did not think the other man was looking, muttering phrases under his breath that Merlin could not quite catch. He even went out of his way to have a conversation with Morgana all by himself, which even seemed quite polite from where Merlin was standing (an entire room away, where Arthur had told him to stay because he wanted to talk in private with Morgana). But the pair of them kept shooting looks over at him, which made him entirely paranoid. When Uther walked in and caught sight of the pair of them, he gave Merlin a rare, chilly, smile before walking off again. After he had gone, however, the conversation went downhill, Morgana’s face hardening and the two of them beginning to argue in agitated whispers until Morgana stormed out of the room, leaving Arthur staring sullenly after her.  
  
It was not until the evening, when Merlin and Arthur were walking back to their rooms, falling automatically into step with each other as Merlin recited tomorrow’s itinerary, that everything came crashing together in one strangely awkward and devastatingly wonderful moment.  
  
“And of course, we’re going to have to fit in that meeting about the DVD commentary for the special edition release between lunch and the afternoon’s shooting, which is supposed to start at three, but you know they’ll never be ready on time, because they never are, and you said something about starting therapy again, so we should really contact Doctor…”  
  
Arthur grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him round.  
  
“Merlin,” he said, with a small smirk. “This is my room.”   
  
Merlin blinked at the number on the door in incomprehension for a few long seconds, before realising that the general unsettling nature of the day had caused him to babble. It was understandable, of course, anyone would babble if they were suddenly faced with Arthur Pendragon staring at them.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, nodding to himself. “So, I’ll see you at seven tomorrow?”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur repeated his name, drawing it out in a familiar amused drawl.  
  
“What’s wrong with you anyway?” Merlin asked, suddenly. He had never beat around the bush with Arthur before (except on the subject of his gayness and that whole thing where he was terribly in love with the obnoxious berk) so he did not see why he should start now. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, with an exasperated sigh. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he just leaned over and kissed Merlin. Right there, in the corridor, in full view of anyone who cared to pass by – never mind that the hotel was entirely booked by cast and crew – Arthur Pendragon was kissing him.  
  
Merlin thought that maybe his heart stopped beating for a minute, or maybe the world had gone crazy, or perhaps he had missed March entirely and it had skipped straight to April Fools’ Day because Arthur bloody Pendragon, star of  _The Moment of Truth_ , and  _Valiant_ , and all those other films that he had watched a million times, was kissing him quite certainly and surely (and without a hint of alcohol on his breath which would have made the whole situation a lot more understandable - in fact, his breath tasted of spearmint, which implied that this had been  _planned_ , something that Merlin could not even consider) and he was not dreaming.  
  
Arthur drew away and looked down the corridor, still the soul of composure as Merlin was left gaping stupidly at him.  
  
The only sound Merlin could make as Arthur gave him a (very smug) smile was something that sounded a lot like  _gnergle_.   
  
“Articulate as usual,” the star commented dryly.   
  
“You…” Merlin began, but the sentence refused to form on his lips and Arthur’s smirk grew. But before he could try to deflate the man’s ego, Arthur had slipped his key card into the door lock and was pushing his way into the hotel suite, tugging Merlin after him. “I…”  
  
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them and Merlin stared at it completely dumbly – his brain was still stuck on the  _Arthur kissed me_  part of the evening – Arthur was pulling Merlin towards him until their bodies were flush against each other.  
  
“Arthur,” Merlin said, trying to hold onto his one last piece of reason as it began to flee from his brain. “We…” Arthur was leaning in, still smirking, the bastard, and Merlin’s train of thought was completely derailed as his eyes lost focus on Arthur’s face.  
  
Then they were kissing again, and all thought of reason or explanation or reality left Merlin completely behind, fading away until all he was left with was Arthur, warm and solid, not the phantom of a dream or the glossy 2D of a poster.  _Real_. There were hands and lips and a tongue, and he realised that the hands were pulling his clothes off at about the same moment as he realised his hands were busy divesting Arthur of his clothes as well.   
  
There was stumbling, but Merlin had no idea where they were or where they were going. He was lost in a haze of complete astonishment and shock, working on autopilot. Until, as he tilted backwards onto something with springy give, he gave up on trying to piece it all together and decided to just go along with whatever was about to happen.  
  
***  
  
Merlin woke up first. The fuzziness of sleep departing to leave him with the firm knowledge that  _no_ , that had not been a dream and yes, the heavy, warm mass squashing his right side into the mattress was Arthur Pendragon, his boss, friend and crush of almost seven years.  
  
He stared at Arthur’s face, relaxed in sleep, trying not to remember what Will had told him, but unable to forget it.  
  
Then he realised he was staring at Arthur with a soppy great smile on his face and the next words that came out of his mouth made a lot more sense.  
  
“Oh bugger.”  
  
Because  _that_  was when there was no turning back.  
  
***  
  
As soon as his own door closed behind him and he was faced with his own messy room, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and hit speed-dial for the only person he could really talk to about this.  
  
“ _Merlin?_ ” Gwen asked sleepily from the other end of the line.  
  
“Shit,” he replied. “Buggering fucking shit, Gwen, and sod, and fucking buggery and… Damn and…”  
  
“ _Merlin?!_ ” She sounded more awake then, concerned, and Merlin realised that without the context his list of expletives could mean a lot of things, but the words he needed to say just were not coming out. If he said them then it would all be all too real and then it really would be buggered. He let out a piteous moan and swore again. “ _What’s the matter? What did you do? What did Arthur do? Oh god! Who’s dead? Did you kill Arthur? Did_ Uther  _kill Arthur? Did Arthur attack you with a low flying vase that you couldn’t quite duck in time? Merlin? Merlin! Answer me, for God’s sake!_ ” He could hear the panic growing in her voice as the questions tumbled out, one falling over the next in her haste to ask them. In the background there were the muffled noises of her fiancée sitting up and asking what was going on.  
  
“He kissed me,” he said slowly, and he waited for that to sink in.  
  
“ _Oh…_ ” she said after a moment. “ _Arthur kissed… we are talking about Arthur, right? I mean, I thought we were talking about Arthur, but I suppose it could be anyone. It wasn’t Uther was it?_ ”  
  
“God no!” Merlin spat out quickly. “No, no and thrice no. And may I add a  _Huuurgh_  to that for good measure. No… we’re talking about Arthur.”  
  
“ _Arthur kissed you?_ ” Gwen repeated, falling back into the slight slur of the recently awakened. “ _That’s nice._ ”  
  
“No it’s not,” Merlin corrected immediately. “It’s terrible.” There was another long pause.  
  
“ _Oh… that would explain the swearing,_ ” she said. “ _Why is it terrible?_ ”  
  
“Because I’m in love with him,” Merlin explained, aware that he was not making much sense, but sense was not really the most important thing in his mind at that point.  
  
“ _Mmhm,_ ” Gwen murmured. “ _I still can’t see the terrible part._ ”  
  
“And he’s straight,” Merlin continued, “and now he  _knows_ that I’m in love with him and,  _aargh_.We…”  
  
“ _Merlin?_ ” she asked.  
  
“Oh fuck it all to hell,” he muttered.  
  
“ _What aren’t you telling me?_ ” she asked curiously down the line.   
  
“I… we…” Merlin groaned. “We had sex, Gwen. I bloody well went and bloody slept with him and now I’ve screwed everything up.”  
  
“ _You and Arthur had_ sex _?_ ” she asked. “ _But he’s straight._ ”  
  
“I know!” Merlin groaned again. “That’s what I just said. “I slept with Arthur and he’s straight and it’s all fucked up!”  
  
“ _But he can’t be straight if he slept with you,_ ” she reasoned.  
  
“He’s straight, Gwen,” Merlin repeated, “I walked in on him and Morgana often enough to know that.”  
  
“ _Oh… yes,_ ” she said, and Merlin knew she had done something similar herself several times. “ _Well, maybe he’s bi._ ”  
  
“And maybe the Pope’s a Buddhist,” Merlin said sarcastically. “I  _know_  Arthur, Gwen. He’s a prat. A selfish bastard and he’ll go for anything if he thinks it’s interesting. I love him, but he’s completely self-absorbed.” He paused. “He’s the kind of person who’ll think something idly and then do it just because he can. He found out I’m gay and he wanted to find out if he could… He just wanted to prove that he  _could_  do it if he wanted to. It was just sodding curiosity, Gwen, and I can’t do it anymore.”  
  
“ _Merlin… maybe you’re being a little hard on him,_ ” Gwen said slowly, but she did not sound convinced.  
  
“Stop playing devil’s advocate,” Merlin told her, taking a deep breath. “You know what he’s like as well as I do. Just like Morgana. I’m not saying they’re not good people, it’s just, they like to get their own way. They like to be the centre of attention and if they aren’t, they’ll do anything to get back there.”  
  
“ _Perhaps you should calm down a bit, and think this through…_ ” Gwen said, pleading. “ _Talk to Arthur at least, ask him what it was about._ ”  
  
“I already know what it was about,” Merlin replied.  
  
“ _Did he tell you that?_ ” she asked.  
  
“No, but…”  
  
“ _Then you don’t know,_ ” she insisted. “ _I think you should just talk to him. Don’t do anything stupid. Not that I think you would… but just in case._ ”  
  
“I can’t do it anymore, Gwen,” he said with a sigh.  
  
“ _Talk to him, Merlin,_ ” she insisted. “ _I’ll see you later._ ” Then she hung up and he was left alone in his hotel suite in the dark, the memory of Arthur still echoing on his body.  
  
“Right...” he said, nodding to himself.  
  
That was when the knock came at the door.  
  
He crossed over to open it without even thinking, still trying to think of some explanation that made sense for what had just happened.  
  
Arthur was standing on the other side of the door. He looked more than a little confused.  
  
“Oh God,” Merlin said. Arthur’s hair was still a bit of a mess and honestly, he wondered why the make-up people spent two hours trying to give him that look of just fucked fuckability when all they really had to do was wait for him to sleep with someone and then drag him out of bed. Maybe Merlin was biased, though, because Arthur’s hair wasn’t perfectly mussed, a clump just above his right temple stood to attention, and his right cheek was vividly red where he had been lying on it.   
  
“Merlin… ” Arthur began. Merlin had a sudden moment of premonition, not that he believed in those things but, as Arthur was opening his mouth he knew how it was all going to go. Arthur was going to pass it off as something that people  _did_ every now and then, and Merlin would laugh and go along with it. Then they would go to the set and have the lunchtime meetings about the DVD commentary, the evening phone calls would come about the poster session, or a possible photo shoot with third world children with cancer and reading difficulties who were virtuoso piano players or some such thing. Everything would be normal and so it would continue.  
  
Merlin would feed Arthur and clothe Arthur and take phone calls for Arthur and generally run his life and he would always be waiting for it to happen again because it had happened once, so there was always a possibility – right? And maybe it would happen again, but in between there’d be all the Sophias and the Morganas… oh right, not the Morganas, because there wasn’t anyone else like Morgana in the entire world. But there would be  _women_  and possibly men if Arthur had decided he was bi after all. He would spend all his life waiting on Arthur bloody Pendragon and he would never have a fucking life of his own and…  
  
But the sex had been good, mind-blowing good. Admittedly, there had been fumbling and Arthur had fallen out of bed that one time… and Merlin had whacked his head against the wall and it had been fast and messy and he had had to explain how things worked, but it had been him and Arthur… He knew that there was a bite mark on his left hip, and he could feel the memory of Arthur’s mouth and fingers tingling down his body.   
  
He shook his head, to throw the sensation off. Will was right, not that he would ever say that to his face, but his life had turned into an extension of Arthur’s and he was sick of it.   
  
“I don’t think we were…” Arthur continued, but Merlin interrupted him quickly, the words spurting out of him before he could over think.  
  
“I quit,” he said.  
  
“…Finishe… what?” Arthur broke off and stared at him, looking utterly flabbergasted for the first time in all the years Merlin had known him.  
  
“I quit, Arthur. Thanks… for the job and… everything, but I can’t do this anymore. Sorry. I… have to go. I’ll work the rest of the week if you want me to.” Merlin gritted his teeth at the thought, standing around, talking at Arthur, smiling at Arthur.  
  
“You’re resigning?” Arthur asked.  
  
“That’s what the words ‘I quit’ usually mean,” Merlin said, trying to avoid Arthur’s eyes as they stared at him, still cloudy in confusion.  
  
“Why?” Merlin opened his mouth, but no sound came out for a moment. He paused, to take a deep breath before trying again.  
  
“Because… Arthur. I’m not here to be your fuck buddy,” he said. He wanted to say a lot more. Like tell Arthur that he was hopelessly and terribly in love with him, in the way that teenage girls who watched his films would go home and dream about. He wanted to tell him that he had imagined that moment for years, the two of them suddenly reaching for each other. There were so many words tumbling over in his mind. He wanted to tell Arthur what a complete prat he was, but that it was okay, because he was stupid enough to love him  _anyway_  or maybe  _because_  of the prattishness, and that he loved him in a way that made him angry, and sad and fucking irate some days.   
  
But he didn’t say any of it, because he still had a little bit of pride, even if he had spent the previous night on his back with his legs spread,  _begging_. There was also the fact that he was not an enormous girl, no matter what Will said, and the fact that he had been around the film industry long enough to hate clichés, and yelling out an admission of love in a hotel room after a night of meaningless (on one side, at least) sex was too big a cliché even for him.  
  
He slammed the door in Arthur’s face and told himself that crying was a bad idea because girls cried and Merlin was unequivocally not a girl – as had been very much proven the night before, thank you very much. So he did not cry, not even a little bit. Then, when he had not cried for a good few seconds, although there had been a few moments of broken breathing – because he was  _angry_  damn it! He grabbed his phone and he called Will.  
  
“ _Morning sunshine_ ,” Will answered, sounding like he was probably just about to have a killer hangover. Part of Merlin hoped that it hurt like hell, because somehow, someway, this was all his sodding fault.   
  
“I quit,” he said quietly. “Just now.” There was a moment of stunned silence, but Merlin couldn’t quite tell which end of the line was more stunned.  
  
“ _You what?_ ” Will asked, the slur of alcohol gone from his voice.  
  
“I quit.”  
  
“ _Wait a minute, wait a minute… how?_ ” Will said, “ _Let’s just skip back to before that, okay and talk me through what the hell you were thinking._ ”  
  
“Does it even matter?” Merlin asked, not wanted to go into that with Will of all people. “You told me I should quit. You’ve been telling me for three years that I should quit. Now I’ve done it. That’s that, end of story… happy?”  
  
“ _Are you?_ ”  
  
“Just come and pick me up, you prick. I told Arthur I’d finish out the week, but I don’t think he’s going to want me to after I just chewed him out.”  
  
“ _You yelled at Arthur?_ ”  
  
“Come and pick me up and I’ll tell you on the way. You don’t have work this morning, right?”  
  
“ _I’ll take it off,_ ” Will said blithely. “ _I’ll be there in an hour, and you are telling me_ everything,  _Merlin. Understand?_ Everything.”  
  
“I’ll meet you out front.” Merlin told him, before hanging up.  
  
It took a depressingly short time for Merlin to pack all the things he wanted up. His entire life had been cut down to what he could carry in two (or possibly three) bags for the past three years, and that tended to help avoid clutter. He left the files containing Arthur’s entire life, after all the moron was going to need some kind of indicator of where to go when, and he left, a little regretfully, the Arthur doll Gwen had given him, with the pins still stuck into him. He tried to remind himself not to feel upset.  
  
It was just a hotel room, after all, not a home; it was just a job.  
  
He refused to look back one last time before he opened the door and shuffled out into the corridor with his two bags and his oversized comedy coat, as Arthur had taken to calling it. He just wanted to get out of there and avoid ever seeing Arthur again. Not that that would be possible – the problem with falling into tragic unrequited love with a film star was their face was everywhere. But if he could leave without seeing the man in person, that would be a start.  
  
Apparently Arthur felt no such compunctions, though. He was sitting with his back against his door, knees drawn up to his chest, staring down at his hands in bemusement. Merlin could tell from the way his hair still stuck up and the creases in his t-shirt that he had been out there since their one sided conversation earlier.  
  
“So, you’re really going then,” the star said, without looking up.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Right… well,” Arthur pushed himself upright. “Good luck. I’ll send you your references.”  
  
“Worst personal assistant ever,” Merlin hazarded, risking a smile, but Arthur still didn’t look at him, and it slowly fell.  
  
“Something like that…” They paused for a moment, Arthur staring at the artistic watercolour of a field on the opposite wall and Merlin trying desperately to come up with some way of saying goodbye.  
  
In the end he settled with holding out the overstuffed Date book, which he had been using to run Arthur’s life. He coughed slightly under his breath and waited for the blond to reluctantly take it.  
  
“You’ve got to get to filming in thirty minutes, you know,” he said, awkwardly. “And I’ve planned everything I can in that. The next guy, or girl… maybe you’ll want a change, I don’t know. They should be able to figure everything out, and Gwen and Gaius can usually understand my short hand if they get confused. Just make sure you don’t get someone who’ll pander to your every whim, okay?”  
  
“Merlin…”  
  
“Right, I’m an idiot,” he filled in the blanks with a wonky smile. “Tell Morgana good bye and… remember not to miss your appointment with your father. He’ll flay me alive if you miss it, whether I work for you or not.”  
  
“Like I’d miss that,” Arthur said, actually glancing over at him for a split second before flinching away. “Right… well you’d better go, hadn’t you?”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Merlin checked his watch. “Will’ll be waiting.”  
  
“Will?” Arthur’s head snapped round, his blue eyes fixing on Merlin with an intensity that was increased by the fact that he had barely been looking at him before. For a second Merlin’s mind flashed back to the previous night, but the harsh glare of Arthur’s eyes in daylight was a far cry from the look of them in the dim light the night before.  
  
“Yeah, I called him for a lift.”  
  
“Of course you did…” Arthur sounded like he was going to say more, but he cut himself off, returning to staring off at the picture.  
  
“Anyway… thanks,” Merlin stood awkwardly for another second, then in a rush, Arthur stuck out his hand. Gratefully his ex personal assistant took it and they shook, short and firm.  
  
“Don’t do anything stupid, alright,” Arthur warned him.   
  
“Same to you,” Merlin shot back, pulling back his hand before he ignored Arthur’s words and gave him a goodbye kiss or something. “See you around.”  
  
“Yeah,” Arthur replied, even though there was no way they would. With the exception of seeking each other out, their lives would not exactly coincide.  
  
*  
  
Will was waiting in the lobby, reading a pamphlet on one of the many wonderful attractions in the nearby area. He didn’t seem that impressed.  
  
“Let’s go,” Merlin said, in lieu of a greeting. His childhood friend started, not having heard him come up behind him, before turning to look at him with a searching gaze that only someone who had known you your entire life could give.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“We’ll talk about it in the car,” Merlin said, as blankly as he could manage. Will did not even question him, which was the most bizarre thing he had ever encountered. There was nothing there but worry and sympathy. It was wrong, as though someone had put their friendship (his life) in a snowstorm and shaken it up until everything was the wrong way round. Will was the friend he fucked on occasion, Arthur was the standoffish one and he would never, in a million years, quit his job.  
  
But he had.  
  
The car was nearby and as he was getting into it, his phone rang.  
  
“ _Merlin… tell me you didn’t…_ ” Gwen’s voice said down the line. “ _What happened? What did Arthur say?_ ”  
  
“Gwen… I’m sorry, I have to go.”  
  
“ _You don’t_ have  _to do anything, Merlin,_ ” she told him earnestly down the phone. “ _These things can sort themselves out._ ”  
  
“Don’t you think it’s a little beyond that?” Merlin asked, sliding into the passenger seat and clicking his seatbelt into place as Will turned the ignition.  
  
“ _Look, Arthur likes you, you know he does. He actually treated you like a human being._ ”  
  
“When he felt like it.”  
  
“ _Well… he is Arthur,_ ” Gwen allowed, “ _oh… I’ve got to go, Morgana’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later, alright?_ ”  
  
“Sure, Gwen.” Merlin allowed, listening as she hung up the phone, but keeping his own glued to his ear for a few moments, trying to delay the inevitable.  
  
“What the fuck happened?” Will asked, before the phone was even at Merlin’s shoulder. “What did he do?”  
  
“I slept with him,” Merlin said simply, “and then I couldn’t do it any more.” That took the wind out of Will’s sails. He blinked rapidly for a moment, and Merlin could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain. Any second now the question ‘was he any good?’ would come out of his mouth.  
  
“Well that was a damn fool thing to do…” Will announced, going completely off script and leaving Merlin struggling to keep up.  
  
“It’s not like I was intending to sleep with him…” he protested. “He was just there.”  
  
“Like me, then?” Will asked, sounding surprisingly catty for someone who had rejected all possible connections of effeminacy with being gay.  
  
“What…?” Merlin asked, opening his mouth and shutting it again over and over, as though he was gaping for air. “Will, I never... You were never… When did this become about us?”  
  
“Never mind, Merlin.” Will said with a shake of his head. “You’re a prat, you know that?”  
  
“I thought Arthur was the prat…” Merlin said slowly.  
  
“Well, maybe you both are. Must be why you’re so perfect for each other.”  
  
“ _Will._ ”  
  
“Fine, I’ll shut up, but you’re still an idiot.”  
  
***

The bakery in Ealdor was a small affair, barely ten foot square in the main shop, with three ovens and a staff of two – and that was including Merlin.   
  
It was understood, when Merlin shuffled into work for his first day, that he was not there to stay. It was an interim job, just until he could find somewhere else that needed no qualifications other than being able to handle one of the most demanding men in the world for over three years without committing suicide. Mr Polburn the baker did not ask any questions, nor did he supply any answers. There was a picture in the kitchen, over the worktop where he would knead the dough, which might have been his wife, or a grown up daughter, or someone completely unrelated. Merlin returned the favour and chose not to pry.  
  
He mostly worked up front in the shop, and he enjoyed it. Not in the same way he had enjoyed working for Arthur – always on the fringe between aroused and infuriated – but because he got to talk to ordinary people and just see life going on. In his previous job, everything had been fake, on the screen and off it. Sophia was just one of the most obvious examples. In Ealdor everything was terrifyingly real, from the mother of three, with the bags under her eyes and the third child screaming for a gingerbread man, to the little old lady who flirted outrageously with him.  
  
He gave the little old lady, Mrs Green –  _call me Meg, sweetheart_  – an extra sticky bun and an extra large smile and enjoyed just being himself.  
  
Will came in every now and then to make suggestive comments about the éclairs and men in aprons (and not much else). His mother popped in and look at him sadly before ordering two loaves and a bag of pastries.  
  
She had been surprisingly quiet about his sudden return home, catching his arm with one hand as he walked into the house and asking quietly whether he was sure.  
  
He had never been able to lie to the woman who raised him, and he had just shrugged and told her that he did not know what else to do. Any other comments she might have made were swept away as she hugged him tightly and told him that she was glad to have him back.  
  
He knew that she didn’t like his working there, she thought he was meant to be somewhere else, and sometimes so did he.  
  
It was a month after he had left when the bell on the shop door jangled out and Merlin looked up to find himself staring into the eyes of a distinctly unimpressed Morgana LeFay.  
  
“Can I help you?” he asked, quirking a grin at her. He had been talking to her and Gwen over the phone and email, but to have her suddenly turn up, well out of her way and with no sort of warning, was a little jarring.   
  
“I like the hat,” she said, and Merlin reached up to self-consciously pat the white hairnet-slash-fashion statement that graced his head.  
  
“I’m trying to start a trend,” he quipped easily, reminding himself that this was just Morgana, whom he had seen in various states of undress over the years and who had given him verbal arse-kickings more times than he could count. Behind her another customer came in and as soon as he recognised her, did such a perfect double take that Merlin almost wished he had had a camera to record the moment. “I’ve got a spare in the back if you’d like, together we could take over the world.” He managed to raise a secretive half-smile from her and marked that up as a triumph.  
  
“I think I’ll pass. I don’t think my agent’s ready for bakery chic yet,” she returned.  
  
“You could have had the world…” he said.  
  
“I’d be happy to have a few moments of your time…” she said. Merlin was just about to reply when the guy behind her finally worked up the courage to make a noise that sounded like an alarmed sheep. Merlin watched Morgana click into her ‘fan’ persona effortlessly, turning to him with far more grace than the bakery had ever seen, even before Merlin and his rebellious limbs had taken up residence there.  
  
“Are…” the man coughed as his voice came out unnaturally high and Merlin took a moment to remember his name – Thomas, from down the road. He was the local plumber and Merlin had never seen him bashful before, nor blushing. Without commenting, he got the plumber’s usual order ready. “Are you Morgana LeFay…  _the real_ Morgana LeFay?”  
  
“Yes.” Morgana replied easily, “nice to meet you, Mr…”  
  
“Matthews, Thomas Matthews,” he beamed as he took her hand, and Merlin could almost picture the thoughts going through the guy’s mind: ‘I’m touching her, dear God; I can’t believe she’s looking at me.’ “I’m a huge fan, Miss LeFay.”  
  
“Call me Morgana, please,” she said. Merlin switched off as she went through the usual patter, niceties about how his day had gone, a quick query about autographs, signing a photograph followed by a polite but firm dismissal. Morgana had always been the queen of public relations. Arthur was good in official capacities, awards ceremonies and press releases, but on a more ad hoc basis, he tended to be a little more himself. Morgana was aware of herself every second of every day. Merlin had once asked Gwen if she measured every smile before hand, just to check that they were exactly right. His only answer had been a laugh and he still did not know to what lengths the actress would go to for publicity.  
  
“Your order, Mr Matthews,” Merlin said, sliding the bag of bread across the counter and taking the outstretched money in return. Before he could give the plumber his change, he had wandered out in a daze.  
  
“Should you take that to him?” she asked curiously.   
  
“I’ll pop it round on my way home,” Merlin told her with a shrug.  
  
“Nice to see you’re as devoted to your new job as you used to be to your old one,” she said, leaning over the counter at him. She looked like some sort of glossy magazine cover and Merlin again wanted a camera. The main problem with Morgana was, he had decided years ago, that she was impossible to hate. Even when she had been with Arthur, even when she was so untouchably perfect, there would be moments when she’d crook an eyebrow, or spike Arthur’s sandwich with chilli and she would be completely human.  
  
“We’re a full service bakery, Miss LeFay.”  
  
“So few men these days take responsibility for their actions,” she said, and Merlin could  _feel_  the undertones in her voice tingling through him. “It’s admirable.”  
  
“What can I do for you, Morgana?” he asked slowly, cutting to the chase. He knew that if he did not, she would continue all day, slowly circling around the issue, shaving him into tiny pieces as she went. It would be better to get it all out in the open at once, rather than letting her toy with him.  
  
“You know Arthur’s on his fifth assistant since you left?” she asked abruptly. Merlin shrugged, trying not to let on that he had been counting every time Gwen had told him another one bit the dust. “It would have been more, but Uther and Gaius performed an intervention after the first one lasted three hours and demanded that he keep them at least a week, to be sure.” He was sure that his desperate attempts to keep a straight face must be the worst in history, but she did him the credit of not commenting, just staring straight at him until he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “According to Arthur they’re all awful: they’re too noisy, or too quiet, or they don’t have a sense of humour… or they lose his favourite pair of blue Armani jeans.”  
  
“Arthur hates those jeans,” Merlin said before he could stop himself. The trousers in question tended to bunch a little too much around Arthur’s ankles and the star had relegated them to the back of his wardrobe. Merlin had always thought they complemented his arse, though. Morgana smiled, as though she had just won some private war.  
  
“You know that, I know that… the poor schmuck who was thrown bodily out of his room and will probably never work in the business again did not.”  
  
“He  _threw him_  from the room?” Merlin asked, his jaw dropping in incredulity. “Jesus, I thought he’d got over the tantrums.”  
  
“You know Arthur, always a prima donna,” she said airily. “His current PA’s due for the chop today actually. Gwen, Gaius and I have a bet over what the reason will be. Care to weigh in? Gwen says it’ll be for breathing too much, Gaius suggested standing incorrectly… personally I think it might just be because she’s not you.”  
  
“Morgana, I…”  
  
“Arthur’s an idiot,” she said abruptly, “A lifetime of living in films has given him unreasonable expectations of himself and everybody else, and he can’t ask for anything he really wants.” She tossed her hair in a way that had made a million men fall in love with her time and time again, Merlin just smiled.   
  
“Arthur has never had a problem asking for anything,” he said, remembering the orders, the demands and the two am phone calls that had been his life for three years.  
  
“Come on, Merlin. You know him better than that,” she leaned closer, her eyes boring into his. “Arthur never asks for what he really wants.”  
  
“You can talk,” Merlin said.  
  
“Merlin, if I wanted you to screw me silly on the floor of this bakery right now, I would have no compunctions about asking for it. If I wanted you to work for me, I would call you up and say ‘please come back’,” she paused. “I wouldn’t stop before hitting the call button, or pressing send.”  
  
“Morgana, I’m not going to go back just because Arthur’s being a brat,” he said firmly. “The whole point of this is to stop him from using me any more.”  
  
“Right… that’s the point,” Morgana said, not sounding entirely credulous. “I thought it was because you were both too stupid to talk to each other. But I can see that I was wrong.” She sighed and smiled serenely. “It’s good to see you, Merlin. You shouldn’t be a stranger. Even if you and Arthur are being morons, that’s no excuse for turning your back on everyone else.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, truthfully. He missed Gwen, and Gaius too, and even Morgana, although they had never been terribly close as far as he knew. Though he knew she had very few close friends, so perhaps he meant more to her than he thought.   
  
“Come down next week, you can stay with Gwen and I. We’ll take you out for dinner,” she commanded.  
  
“Morgana, I really have…” his voice trailed off under the force of her imperious stare. “Is Tuesday okay?” he asked with a sigh.  
  
“Perfect,” she smiled happily and leaned over the counter to peck him on the cheek, smearing flour over her own cheek in the process. Somehow it still suited her, almost as though it were artfully placed. “Gwen will be pleased.”  
  
“Would you like anything?” he asked. She looked down at the pastries under the glass with a wicked look in her eyes.  
  
“Are those Eccles cakes?” she asked, leaning closer.  
  
“uh… yes.”  
  
“Oh, three of those, then,” she said. “I really should give my driver something for lugging me all the way up here.”  
  
As Merlin was bagging up her Eccles cakes and wondering whether or not to give her the discount reserved for staff and their families, her phone rang and she answered it.  
  
“Gwen?” he overheard followed by a lot of half complete sentences and hmms of agreement. The conversation was barely started before it was finished.  
  
“Four pounds eighty,” he said. She handed over a five pound note without even thinking about it.   
  
“That was Gwen,” she said, sliding her change across the counter towards her. “She says that another one bit the dust… Arthur fired her because she was too nice, apparently.” She shrugged and turned to depart, leaving Merlin staring after her in agitation.  
  
It had all been simple for that one month, no Arthur – except on the television. He had stripped his room bare of posters and rolled them all up in a corner. His mother had given him a tight lipped look of concern when she had wandered into his room and not found Arthur staring at her from every surface, but he had shrugged it off.  
  
Now Morgana had come and upset everything. She took some kind of sadistic pleasure in turning people upside down and shaking them to see what came out, he was certain of it. And she could never, ever, admit to being wrong.  
  
As he shuffled home from work, the chills of early spring still in the air and his hands stuck deep into his pockets, he couldn’t quite get his mind off the fact that he had agreed to go back the next week. Arthur would be there. He had no illusions about what Morgana was trying to do, and arranging for Arthur and him to meet ‘by accident’ was high up there on the list. But, as peaceful as his life was in Ealdor, he missed his life before. It had taken him weeks to stop freaking out that his iPhone was not going off every five seconds.  
  
When he walked into his living room, his mother and Will were sitting on the sofas eating Chinese take-away.  
  
“’lo,” he muttered, stripping off his coat and, under his mother’s watchful gaze, hanging it up on the rack.   
  
“Yours is in the kitchen,” Will told him around a mouthful of prawn cracker. The quiet in the room was unnerving as Merlin left to retrieve his dinner, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that the pair of them had been talking about him before he had walked in. Even when he returned, tray full of still hot Chinese in his hands, they had not recovered from the lapse in conversation.  
  
He sat down and began to eat, he was starving, for all he worked somewhere that sold food. Pastries lost their allure after a couple of weeks.  
  
“Thanks,” he said, in between mouthfuls.  
  
“I’ll take that as an ‘I owe you my undying thanks, Will. You are a god among men,’” his friend replied.  
  
“You keep believing that,” he answered, but the banter did not continue, fading away again, swallowed up by a conversation that they were not having.  
  
Strangely, dinner was in almost silence, the three of them edging around conversations, although Will and Hunith kept giving each other distinctly suspicious glances. Finally, after they had all finished and Will had taken his leave, hugging Hunith and whacking Merlin on the shoulder with an admonishment to be less of an idiot, something broke and his mother turned round to him with a serious look on her face.  
  
“I think we need to talk,” she said calmly, gesturing for him to return to the living room.  
  
“About what?” he asked, sitting down and looking at her as blankly as he could manage. She looked at him with a glance that only mothers could give and waited. “Mum… I’m fine.”  
  
She just sat down next to him and patted his knee gently.  
  
“You don’t want to work at the bakery,” she said, and Merlin couldn’t deny that. It was a pleasant enough break, but it was hardly what he wanted to for the rest of his life. “Arthur seemed like a nice young man when I met him.”  
  
Merlin smiled. It was so very Arthur that he still had his mother charmed and wrapped around his little finger when he was miles away and had only met the woman for those four days.   
  
“What happened?” she asked, carefully, “Will won’t tell me. He just says you’re being ridiculous and I’ve never known him to mince his words before.”  
  
“He doesn’t even  _like_  Arthur,” Merlin commented wryly.  
  
“He likes you, and we both know you’re not really happy.” She sighed and changed tactics, straightening up and crossing her arms. “Merlin, I did not raise you to run away from things or hide. You’ve always been your own person, and you’ll probably never realise how proud I am about that, but I refuse to stand back and watch while you ruin yourself.”  
  
“Mum… I’m in love with him,” Merlin managed to tell her.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“So does he…” Merlin’s voice was almost a whisper.  
  
“Why is that such a bad thing?” Hunith asked, carefully smoothing back his hair.  
  
“Because he  _knows_ …” Merlin said, waving his hands to try and intimate the several million levels of wrong that were encompassed by Arthur knowing. “He’ll use it.”  
  
“Merlin… the man spent four days here when he could have hidden out anywhere else in the world. He put up with Will…”  
  
“I…” he began.  
  
“And these came today, in the post.” She handed him a stiff brown envelope which Merlin tore open carefully.   
  
“It’s a copy of my references,” he said, “Arthur typed them up himself…” he said, noting the post-it stuck to the top:  _hope these are useful._ He scanned downwards and blushed slightly as he took in just how good they were.   
  
“I take it he has some nice things to say,” his mother commented, Merlin just passed her the sheet. Reading it more carefully than her son had, she sighed deeply. “You should talk to him, Merlin. I know that I don’t know what happened, but he does care about you.”  
  
“He’s straight.” She smiled as Merlin spoke.  
  
“Talk to him,” she instructed.  
  
“I’m going down on Tuesday,” he mumbled, “to see Morgana and Gwen. I think Morgana’s planning to help us bump into each other. I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
His mother kissed him once on the forehead before standing up.  
  
“Come on then,” she said, brushing her hands together, “help me clear all of this away.”  
  
*  
  
Tuesday came quickly enough, in hindsight, though the waiting switched between dragging hopelessly along and hurrying away so fast that Merlin could hardly keep up. When he woke up in the dark pre-dawn hours, he groaned and rolled over, trying to remember why he had agreed to this again. There was a part of him that wanted to bury his head in his pillow and just sleep until it all seemed like a bad dream, but there was another part of him, just under the surface, that made him feel like he was at the top of a rollercoaster, which wanted to see Arthur again in real life.  
  
He opened his eyes to the blank grey-white of his ceiling which still looked wrong to him after so many years of waking up to Arthur’s face. He barely recognised his room. It was that more than anything that made him swing his legs out of the bed. There was something utterly wrong about the whole situation.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand over his head before heading out of his room to glare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Today was going to be one of those days, he could feel it.  
  
His mother was up in time to see him off, with a silent kiss to his forehead. He had half expected her to have another meaningful chat with him and was unbelievably relieved when she didn’t.  
  
So he drove off, in the car that had been sitting in the garage for four years waiting for him to drive it. Will had taken it out a few times, to keep it running and always pretended that he had totalled it over the phone. Merlin was surprised to find it was still in full working order, mostly. There was a high probability that it was going to burst into flames on the motorway, it was that old.   
  
The journey was quiet, unnaturally so, but the radio was broken and the cassette/cd player had never worked properly in all the time Merlin had known it. He was left to his own thoughts and devices, which was unhelpful. He wanted something to take his mind off everything, but there were only business men in cars on their daily commute and lorry drivers swerving across the lanes, which at least kept him awake.  
  
It had been a while… years really, since he had driven himself any great distance, and the concentration kept him somewhat occupied, but there still wasn’t enough to keep him from turning back to Arthur and Morgana and  _Arthur_  again.  
  
Who he was thinking about when his phone rang.  
  
Will would have laughed at him if Merlin ever told him he actually pulled over into a Welcome Break service station to answer the thing. But the look on his mother’s face if she ever found out he had been on his mobile while driving was enough to make him.  
  
“ _Merlin?_ ” Gwen’s voice was anxious and alert on the other end.  
  
“Gwen? What is it?” he asked immediately. His friend did not have a habit of exaggerating problems. If anything she downplayed them, it was an essential skill in their job…  _her_ job, Merlin mentally corrected.  
  
“ _We’re worried about Arthur._ ” She told him. Roughly translated that meant either that Arthur had committed murder, or suicide. Merlin swore.   
  
“What’s happened?” he wondered how many times he had said those very words in his professional capacity. It was usually a drunken altercation with a reporter, or a yelling match with Morgana, or once – and thank God that it was only once – a run in with an insane pelican. He knew that his voice had slipped back into ‘Arthur’s PA’ and he tried to reign in the thoughts that were already planning strategies for the above.   
  
“ _He didn’t show up this morning,_ ” Gwen said slowly, “ _he hasn’t left his room today and he’s not answering his phone._ ” Merlin considered that for a moment, staring at the white bird on the service station sign. He opened his mouth to say that he would deal with it, but then closed it again. That was not his job any more. He didn’t run around fixing the things that Arthur broke. That was someone else.  
  
“What about his Assistant?” He asked, sliding back into his professional tone because it was easier than admitting what it cost him to say that sentence.   
  
“ _Uh…_ ” Gwen paused for a moment. “ _He’s not really available._ ”  
  
“What the fuck does that mean?”  
  
“ _That he’s in the corner crying._ ” Gwen replied. “ _Arthur… there was an argument… over ice-cubes._ ”  
  
“Ice-cubes?”   
  
“ _Well, that’s what we think it started as… But Arthur may have said some things about his mother, and possibly some rather cutting remarks about his life._ ”  
  
“Arthur made him cry?” Merlin struggled for dead-pan, but it was difficult when he was torn between amused and righteously angry.  
  
“ _I don’t think he_  meant _to. I think he’s just given up firing them and started trying to make them quit._ ”  
  
“Sounds like it’s working.”  
  
“ _A little too well,_ ” she agreed, followed by a sigh. “ _Look, Merlin. I know that this isn’t your job any more… even if that is because you ran away._ ” Merlin blinked at that, sometimes Gwen could be cutting without even noticing. “ _But, you’re on your way here anyway. I mean, you are coming, aren’t you?_ ”  
  
“I’ll be there in just under an hour, if the traffic holds out,” he said, looking at the clock.   
  
“ _So, maybe you could try and talk to him. We think he’ll listen to you._ ”  
  
“Gwen…” Merlin began, but there was a rustle of noise on the other end of the line and the next voice he heard was not Gwen’s warm tones, but the clear, precise enunciation of Morgana.  
  
“ _Merlin_ ,” she said calmly.   
  
“Fine. I’ll talk to him.” Merlin capitulated. As soon as Morgana got involved there was no way out. She would get her way even if she had to chain you up and drag you there. “He’s probably just sulking or something.”  
  
*  
  
For all Gwen’s concern and Morgana’s lack of emotion, Merlin was not expecting it to be that bad. After all, Arthur tended to throw things and hit things until he got all his emotion out, and yell at people who cleaned up after him. Three years of knowing Arthur’s life better than he knew his own had boiled down to understanding when to make a joke at someone else’s expense and when to duck the bottle of expensive booze being tossed in the general direction of his head. Arthur never aimed at him, but there was always a chance he would miss.  
  
So the crowds of reporters outside the hotel were unexpected, especially the way they were all craning their necks up towards the roof.  
  
No one noticed him pulling into the car park, narrowly avoiding hitting an overzealous photographer, except Gaius.  
  
“Merlin!” The relief in the publicist’s voice was enough to make all the misgivings return. The young man looked around at the scene and took a deep breath.  
  
“Please tell me they’re not looking at Arthur…” he said slowly. Gaius’ pained expression was enough. “Where are Gwen and Morgana?” he asked.  
  
“They went up to try and talk to him, but security seemed to think it would be a bad idea…” Gaius’ eyebrow twitched in a way that implied that  _he_  had thought it was a bad idea and had persuaded security to agree with him.  
  
“I can’t imagine why,” he said, wryly, following Gaius and the publicist turned around and hurried towards the back entrance of the hotel, hurriedly locking his doors over his shoulder. “So… has he threatened to jump?” Merlin asked, as soon as they were inside the doors. It was amazing how easily he fell back into the habit of all of this, ignoring the reporters, keeping up a conversation about a possible suicide attempt while maintaining complete calm.  
  
“No…” Gaius said. “We’re not sure why he went up there, but then Uther came along and he seemed to think that it was excellent publicity and told everyone not to call the papers, so of course  _someone_  phoned the television stations and… well, it turned into a two ring circus.”  
  
“Well, Heath Ledger got a posthumous Oscar,” Merlin commented bleakly. Gaius turned and glared at him.  
  
“That’s what Uther said,” Gaius muttered.  
  
“His  _father_ …” Merlin had once told Gaius that nothing Uther did would ever be able to surprise him again, after the man had Arthur thrown in jail for three days for reckless driving. He had been proved wrong more times since then than he cared to think about. It was not that Uther did not love his son, he just had a crap way of showing it, which involved wanting him to be famous in whatever way was possible.  
  
“Did Arthur hear?”  
  
“I doubt it, he was seven storeys above our heads at the time,” Gaius said, pushing Merlin into a lift and punching the roof button. “Look, I’ve got to handle things down here. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, will you?” Merlin almost laughed.  
  
“I couldn’t do that when it  _was_  my job, what makes you think I’ll manage it now?” he asked. There was no reply as the doors hissed shut and the lift jerked into action.  
  
There was something highly anticlimactic about the slow lift journey up to the roof. In one of Arthur’s films, the lifts would have been out of action and the dashing hero (Merlin liked to cast himself in that part) would have had to race up the stairs, only to get to the roof just in the nick of time to stop their one true love from throwing themselves to their death in a fit of despair.  
  
Merlin was glad that he did not have to do that. By the time he had got to the roof he would have been out of breath and Arthur would probably have already tripped and flung himself over the side in a moment of pure stupidity. He’d probably take it into his head that he could  _fly_  or something.  
  
He hissed and watched as the number changed from two to three. He could have sworn that walking would have been faster. But he wouldn’t have been able to talk once he got there.  
  
What did you  _say_  to a film star that might or might not be about to throw themselves off a roof? What did you say to a film star you’d had a one night stand with, were desperately in love with and had (as Gwen had so kindly put it) run away from?  
  
‘Hello’ might not be the best place to start. ‘Sorry’ implied he knew what he was apologising for.  
  
All he really wanted to do was yell at the idiot, but considering his possibly delicate state of mind, maybe that would not be the best idea either.  
  
Suddenly the numbers appeared to be switching from six to seven and Merlin was out of time.   
  
As it was, the first words he spoke as the door ‘ding-ed’ open and he saw Arthur again for the first time since the fateful morning after, were ‘oh bugger’. They seemed as good as any.  
  
“Oh bugger,” he said again for good measure, and stepped onto the roof before he could chicken out and travel back down.  
  
Arthur did not  _look_  as though he was contemplating jumping. He was sitting on the low wall around the roof and, certainly, that wasn’t the safest place to sit, but it wasn’t like he was standing on the edge yelling out ‘goodbye cruel world’ or something.  
  
“Uhm…” he said eloquently, and Arthur finally turned round to him, looking more irritated at the interruption of his thoughts than suicidal. As he noticed Merlin, though, his face changed abruptly, swivelling through guilty, worried and resigned before settling on the blank aggression he thought would scare people away. “Hey Arthur.”  
  
“Merlin… what are you doing here?” he asked.  
  
“Well, I was coming to see Gwen and Morgana,”  _and you_  he did not add because there were already enough possibilities for this discussion to turn horrendously saccharine without him walking right into them. “But then I got here and the first thing I hear when I arrive is that you’re about to throw yourself off the roof and I thought ‘that I’ve got to see’, but the crowds down there are quite big,” they looked down at the vultures below them. “So I decided to come up here and get a front row seat.” Arthur almost smiled, the edges of his mouth quirked up a tiny amount. Enough that Merlin thought it would be safe to cross over the roof and sit next to him. “Take your time though,” he said calmly, trying to forget that they were eighty feet above the ground. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”  
  
“I’m not going to jump, moron.” Arthur told him firmly, kicking his legs against the wall slightly and raising a gasp from the crowd. “I just came up here to think really. I certainly wasn’t expecting  _this._ ” The actor waved a hand toward the crowds. “Honestly…”  
  
“Your father called them in,” Merlin said idly.  
  
“Anything for publicity,” Arthur agreed. “He’s good like that.” Merlin let out a bark of slightly hysterical laughter, causing Arthur to look at him in concern. “Were you really supposed to be here, or did Morgana call you?”  
  
“A bit of both…” Merlin admitted, gazing out over the countryside that surrounded that hotel. It wasn’t something he had ever really noticed while he was staying there, but from the roof it was easy to see why rooms were so sought after. “Could you not have thought in your room… or is that a stupid question?”  
  
“People would have looked for me there, and that... your replacement would be standing in the corner  _cringing._ ”   
  
“Ah, he’s a cringer. Although you might be glad to hear that he’s quit.”  
  
“Good, he was worse than you, and I didn’t even think that was possible.”  
  
“So…” Merlin said, at a loss for conversation. “How’s life?”  
  
“How’s Will?” Arthur asked and Merlin blinked at the bitterness in Arthur’s voice. He shrugged.  
  
“He’s okay, I suppose.”  
  
“Good.” They lapsed into silence for a minute. As Merlin opened his mouth to ask some other inane question his phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it from his pocket.   
  
“Morgana?” he asked as he put the mobile to his ear. Arthur was watching him carefully. He listened to her and Gwen yell at him for a few seconds. “He’s fine, he’s not going to jump… If I hit him from you I might just push him off though.” Arthur shook his head. “I know, I know… he’s an idiot. So am I. Look, I’m currently sitting on the edge of a roof with my feet dangling over a rather large drop so maybe I could finish this conversation at a later date?” There was a definite negative from the other end before Arthur grabbed the phone from his hand.  
  
“Merlin’s busy right now, Morgana,” Arthur said firmly down the phone. “Stop telling me what I need to do… well maybe we would be talking if you hadn’t called… Morgana…  _Morgana_ …” he pulled the phone away from him and stared at it curiously before dropping it.  
  
“Arthur!” Merlin yelled at him, lunging towards the phone without even thinking about it, only Arthur’s arm, snaking out in front of his chest and holding him back kept him from going over. But still they tilted dangerously on the edge for a moment.  
  
“ _Idiot!_ ” Arthur spluttered as they both recovered from the shock. “What were you  _thinking_?” he demanded, forcing them both back off the wall and grabbing Merlin by the shoulder. “You utter  _moron_. You could have killed us both!”  
  
“You threw my  _phone_  off a  _building_.” Merlin said angrily, shaking Arthur off him. And looking over the side towards the tiny splintered remains of his mobile. “You are so buying me a new one for that, you dick.”  
  
“I think  _saving your life_  should be worth a mobile phone.” Arthur told him, crossing his arms angrily and glaring at Merlin with the expression he had had to perfect for being a hit-man with a heart in  _Valiant_.   
  
“If you hadn’t  _thrown my phone off a building_  you wouldn’t have had to save my life.”  
  
“I had to shut Morgana up,” Arthur told him with a shrug.  
  
“You could have  _hung up_ …” Merlin said, and Arthur gaped at him for a moment. “ _Shit_  Arthur… we don’t all have millions of pounds at our disposal, you know.”  
  
“Fine, I’ll buy you a phone,” Arthur snapped.  
  
“Not to mention that if you had been an ordinary person and just stuck a  _do not disturb_  sign on your door in the first place I wouldn’t have been sent up here to stop you from sodding  _killing yourself_ , so we wouldn’t have had  _any_  of these problems.”  
  
“I said I’ll buy you a goddamn phone. Will you shut up?! I’d forgotten how terrible you are at this.”  
  
“Thank God I quit then!” Merlin yelled back, although there was not as much feeling in it anymore. The wind was ruffling across Arthur’s hair and the anger was making his eyes more vivid than usual. Most of Merlin’s higher brain function had either switched off or dedicated itself to reminding himself why kissing Arthur was such a mistake.  
  
“Yes, thank God you did!” Arthur yelled back. They stopped then, staring at each other, before Merlin couldn’t help but smile. “What are you grinning about?” Arthur asked petulantly.  
  
“That’s not what you said in my references.”  
  
“Well, I was being generous. I didn’t think there was any way you’d find another job on your own merit.” But Arthur was beginning to smile as well, properly this time, not one of his smirks, nor just a quick flicker of the lips, but a genuine smile.  
  
“So…” Merlin said, sinking down to sit on the roof – not the edge this time. Arthur dropped down next to him. “Morgana thinks we should talk.”  
  
“She does…” Arthur told him, clearly unwilling to begin the conversation.  
  
“Right… well,” Merlin said slowly. “We had sex.” Blunt was good, it got them to the point, anyway.  
  
“Good to know you noticed that,” Arthur said, obviously trying for nonchalant, but missing by several miles.   
  
“It was fairly noticeable,” Merlin murmured.  
  
“I’d like to think so,” Arthur gave him a grin that was a little too close to a leer. Merlin just rolled his eyes.   
  
“Only two problems with that,” Merlin told him with a sigh “You’re straight and I’m desperately in love with you. Other than that, it’s all brilliant.” Arthur blinked, looking thoughtful for a moment.  
  
“Maybe… not so much,” he said, slowly.   
  
“Not so much what?”  
  
“Not so much straight… really.”  
  
“How not so much are we talking here?” Merlin asked slowly.  
  
“How not so much do you need?”  
  
“Do I need for what?”  
  
“Do you need for…?”  
  
“Do I need for what?”  
  
“Are you ever going to stop answering my questions with questions?” Arthur asked in exasperation. Merlin chuckled and shrugged.  
  
“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re talking about?”   
  
“Couldn’t we just…” Arthur paused, tracking back through their conversation “…desperately in love with me?” Merlin could feel the tips of his ears brightening to a brilliant red. “Merlin?”  
  
“Huh,” he said, trying to keep his voice normal. “You do listen to me.”  
  
“ _Desperately_?” Arthur asked again.  
  
“That might have been the word I used.”  
  
“In love?”  
  
“I do recall those words passing my lips, yes,” Merlin said, sighing. He really should not have let that slip. Arthur would never let it go and it would inflate his ego to ten times its normal size. “I thought you’d worked that out already. You did see the posters.”  
  
“Well yes, but I just thought…”  
  
“That it was normal for me to have your face plastered all over my room?” Merlin said slowly.  
  
“Well, yes. I mean, you are gay and I am irresistible,” Arthur told him. “I didn’t think..  _in love_?”  
  
“Only reason I can think of that I put up with you for three years.”  
  
“ _In lo_ \- You. Utter. Moron!” Arthur told him, cuffing Merlin round the back of the head lightly. “You’re in love with me… why on earth did you run away? I though you and Will…”  
  
“You think that  _Will_  is why I left?” Merlin asked.  
  
“Obviously. I mean, we had sex and you felt guilty for not being able to resist me…”  
  
“I couldn’t resist  _you_?” Merlin asked, choosing to overlook the truth of the statement for the blatant arrogance behind it. Arthur mouthed the word ‘desperately’ at him and Merlin ground his teeth. “Anyway, Will and I… we’re not. I  _told_ you about us.”  
  
“Yeah, but no one says what they really think,” Arthur told him bitterly.  
  
“I do. Most of the time,” Merlin said, forcing himself not to jump Arthur there and then by reminding himself that security would probably be stationed not too far away and there was a crowd of reporters with recording equipment in the car park. The best way for Arthur Pendragon to come out to his adoring public was probably not on the six o’clock news.   
  
The fact that he was thinking about Arthur Pendragon coming out at all was mind boggling.  
  
“You really thought I was straight?” Arthur asked, incredulously. Choosing to leave Merlin’s humiliating confession behind for the moment, which was very chivalrous of him, considering how big a berk he was.  
  
“Well… you’ve never slept with a guy,” Merlin pointed out.  
  
“I slept with you.”  
  
“Well… yes, but that was different. You were just curious, then.”  
  
“I was?”  
  
“Mmhm…” Merlin hummed, wondering why Arthur was questioning that. Arthur just stared back at him, confused.  
  
“Anyway, that’s all sorted out then,” Arthur said with a smile, neither a grin nor a smirk, but something in between that lit up his features in a way that Merlin was sure Will would tease him  _forever_  for noticing. The voice in his head that sounded like his best friend was breaking into a chant of ‘ _girl, girl, you’re a girl_ ’ There was even a dance routine, which Merlin thought made Will more of a girl than him, but it was in his head, so perhaps it was more a reflection on him than Will. While Merlin was watching his inner voices do the can-can round his occipital lobe, Arthur stood up and brushed off his trousers, which cost more than a month’s lease on the bakery Merlin worked in.   
  
“What’s sorted?” Merlin asked, allowing Arthur to drag him to his feet. The actor shrugged.  
  
“Everything.”  
  
“What’s sorted?” Merlin asked again as Arthur turned to walk towards the door to the lift. “I don’t remember anything being sorted… Arthur?”  
  
“Well, you’re desperately in love with me, so it’s all alright,” Arthur told him.  
  
“Uh… right.” Merlin stood, by the edge of the roof, suddenly aware that he was bloody freezing. Arthur had somehow reached the end of a conversation Merlin did not remember having and the press were still gathered at the entrance to the hotel, hoping for a running jump or something.  
  
“Are you coming?” Arthur asked, pausing at the door. “We should probably go and tell Morgana we’ve got it all sorted.”  
  
“Right… of course,” Merlin said. “All sorted… all of what, exactly?”  
  
Arthur crossed back over to him in confusion.  
  
“You’re  _desperately_  in love with me,” Merlin was so busy regretting his hasty use of the word desperately, that he almost missed the next words out of Arthur’s mouth. “I’m sort of in love with you, it’s all sorted.” There was dead silence on the roof for a second and Merlin tried to remember how to close his mouth while Arthur’s cheeks reddened slightly. True to form, he covered the embarrassment with bluster. “Honestly, Merlin. If you were much slower, you’d be going backwards.” He said leaning forward to kiss Merlin firmly. “Any more questions?”  
  
Merlin really should have been dwelling on the way Arthur was staring at him, or how good it had felt, or how happy he was, all of which were true, but far too girly for words.  
  
“Just one,” he said. Arthur waited, more patiently than Merlin had expected. “Did you really mean to do that in front of your father and the national press?” he asked.  
  
Arthur gaped and looked down at the flash bulbs below them, clearly not having realised how close they were standing to the edge.  
  
“Bollocks,” he muttered. Merlin repressed a slightly hysterical laugh.  
  
“What do we do now?” he asked, trying to maintain his calm.  
  
“Traditionally,” Arthur said slowly, linking his fingers with Merlin’s in a move that most definitely did  _not_  make his heart jump a little, because Arthur was a git and had thrown his mobile off a roof and just made him come out to the whole world and its wife, “we would wave.”  
  
“Right…” Merlin said raising his hand, half-heartedly. Arthur seemed to be taking it all with far more aplomb than Merlin thought was reasonable. “And then?”  
  
“We could go finish this somewhere a little less public,” Arthur whispered sideways, his usual photo-op smile pasted to his face.   
  
“We could try that…” Merlin said slowly.  
  
“I do remember you mentioning something about a  _do not disturb_  sign…”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at https://definewisdom.livejournal.com/21564.html


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